The Last of Them
by Tetzel
Summary: The Epilogue.
1. The Court

I: The Court

The court of King Kirrent was nothing more than a tent in the middle of a swamp. The army of King Kirrent was nothing more than a rag-tag group of untrained lizards. King Kirrent himself was nothing more than a washed-up old searat first mate. But King Kirrent didn't care. He had a court, an army, and a title, and he didn't care how lousy any of it was or how undeserving of any of it he was.

King Kirrent had once just been regular old Kirrent, a season or so ago. That was when he had been the first mate under Captain Scarback, the fearless captain of the _Pillager_. The ship had been aptly named. Scarback led his corsairs across the sea into unknown waters, where they become the death of anybeast they came across. They burnt down villages, smashed up homes, and took all the treasure they could lay paws on. This went on for many seasons, until one fateful day, the _Pillager_'s crew attacked the wrong village. While a very angry badger tore Scarback and most of the crew to pieces, Kirrent and about ten other searats had managed to flee.

Finding themselves in an unknown land without any maps, the searats wandered aimlessly, with Kirrent taking charge of the group. One by one, the rats had been killed due to Kirrent's carelessness, until only Kirrent remained. Unwittingly, he blundered into a swamp filled with lizards, probably wanting to make a meal of him. Kirrent found himself completely surrounded by the scaly beasts; their reptilian eyes all watching him hungrily.

One of the larger lizards shouted something about how weak the rat looked, almost unintelligibly, and the lizards all laughed shrilly. Insulted, Kirrent drew his cutlass and ran the lizard through. There had been a short silence as the lizard fell over, dead. It was broken when a lizard named Corzon, whom Kirrent would later make one of his generals, exclaimed in awe, "Killt Blacktooth, he did! Killt him good!" The lizards had then erupted into a frenzy of discussion, mostly achieved by hissing and growling at each other.

Kirrent, seizing the opportunity, waved his dripping red cutlass in the air and demanded, in his most commanding voice, "Shut up!" At once, the lizards had simultaneously silenced themselves. Kirrent didn't know very much about lizards, and he hadn't ever really met one, but one of his former crewmates had told him that they were stupid, simple, and easily impressed. Impressively, he whipped his cutlass down, stopping it right in between the eyes of Corzon. Blood was flicked onto the lizard's face, but Corzon didn't move, not as much as in fear, but as if in dumb shock.

"I am Kirrent the Great, y'hear me?" Kirrent announced, coming up with the best title he could think of at the moment, "I've conquered a thousand kingdoms! I've sailed a thousand seas! I've slain a thousand lizards just like you an' I'll slay a thousand more if I hafta!" The words Kirrent were shouting didn't make much sense, but they sounded good enough to the lizards, and Kirrent could tell. "Now, I'm gonna be yer king now, y'hear me?"

The lizards all looked at each other in shock and awe. A thousand kingdoms? A thousand seas? A thousand lizards? They didn't quite know what it all meant, but a thousand of anything was a lot. Surely, this rat was their king! Kirrent smiled. It finally looked as if his luck was turning around.

Corzon was suddenly pushed aside by the largest lizard in the entire swamp, who suddenly realized that his position as leader was being threatened. "I izz our leader!" the lizard exclaimed accusingly, "I fight you!"

Unwittingly, however, the large lizard had stepped into the exact spot where Corzon had just been standing, with Kirrent's sword directly between his eyes. Kirrent simply thrust his cutlass forward. The large lizard fell directly on top of Blacktooth's carcass, dead as well.

This sealed it for the lizards. Kirrent the Great really _was _their king. And thus, King Kirrent now had an army of poorly trained lizards to protect his tent in the middle of a swamp.

King Kirrent felt that he made a very good king. He had started with small steps: First, he had promoted three lizards to be his generals, one of which being the stupid-but-obedient Corzon. All three had proven more than capable.

Second, he had ordered his army to explore the surrounding area. King Kirrent himself had no idea where he was, and apparently, neither did the lizards, who rarely left their swamp. He learned a lot about the immediate area this way, and one time during these small scouting missions, the scout party returned with a myriad of goods that they stole from a traveling merchant. These goods included the tent that was now King Kirrent's Castle, as well as a large, thick blanket that King Kirrent had modified to be his kingly robe, and a good amount of various weapons. King Kirrent had managed to outfit roughly a third of his army with those weapons, but he had never bothered to train the lizards how to use them. Thusly, the more effective fighters were actually the ones who fought with their claws and teeth.

Thirdly, he had sent solitary scouts to scour the more distant area. This plan had not been successful. The lizards were horrible navigators, and most turned up dead only a short distance away from the swamp. Still more never returned. Only a handful returned, and of those, only a few had come back with any useful information. Most that came back could only speak of endless forest. However, one had made it to the sea, and claimed to have seen a huge mountain off in the distance. And then there were the two that had just returned…

The truth was that, deep down, King Kirrent was not satisfied with his swamp, his tent, or his army. He wanted an actual castle, an actual court, and an actual horde, filled with rats, weasels, ferrets, stoats, and foxes. Not these idiotic lizards. When he sent out the scouts, he was looking for a place from which he could build these things. His lack of luck had aggravated him immensely; thus, upon hearing about the mountain, he had sent off a larger force led by General Davian to check it out, hoping it would have… something. King Kirrent didn't know what. He was just willing to try any avenue, if it could get him out of the swamp.

General Davian stepped into the court of King Kirrent, donning the dirty, ragged gray cloak that was meant to announce his authority. His sword was still unsheathed, and hung in his claw lifelessly. The general knelt as he had been instructed to do whenever beholding King Kirrent, then rose again. King Kirrent could already tell by Davian's look that this was not going to be a report he wanted to hear.

"Errrr…" Davian began, trying to find the right way to tell King Kirrent of his failure, "No good. Errrr… It wuz no good, yez." Davian was trying to speak as intelligibly as possible, hoping that he would somehow impress King Kirrent and perhaps lessen the king's anger. It wasn't going to work.

"'Twas no good, you say, eh?" King Kirrent snarled, leaning on a poorly made wooden chair that served as his throne, "What wasn't so good about it?"

"Big ztripedog, yez, there wuz big ztripedog, and longearz too. Lotz and lotz of them, yez! Cut inta tiny piezzez, yez. Ztripedog wuz very bad, killt lizardz very much, yez!" Davian gesticulated madly, cutting a comical figure.

"Stripedog, eh?" King Kirrent spat, "Stripedogs and longears… That's a hard bit to swallow, aye, but you aren't the type to lie to me, so I'll believe you." King Kirrent wished he knew where exactly he was. What kind of crazy land could he be in that had badgers and hares living at giant mountains on the beach? King Kirrent quickly turned his attention back to Davian. "Tell me exactly wot happened, y'hear me?"

Davian recanted his story as best as he could. The general claimed that he and the twenty lizards King Kirrent had sent with him to examine the giant mountain on the beach had been stopped by three hares in fancy uniforms just as the mountain had come in sight. The hares said that they didn't know what a bunch of lizards were doing on the beach, but they told them to turn back now. Davian had told them that he was there to conquer the mountain in the name of King Kirrent the Great, slayer of a thousand lizards and conqueror of a thousand kingdoms. The hares merely laughed and insulted Davian, then ran off towards the mountain. Davian thought nothing of it and kept on his path.

They had gotten about halfway to the mountain when a large badger, as well as a great amount of hares, had met them. The badger, like the hares previously, warned them to leave and called them a bunch of unskilled newts swinging sticks around. This, Davian claimed, had infuriated the lizards and they had attacked the badger, despite all of Davian's efforts to stop them (King Kirrent was pretty sure that was a bit of an exaggeration, but did not interrupt Davian). The badger had slaughtered all the lizards except the five or six who listened to Davian. That was when Davian had "retreated".

King Kirrent sighed. "So, the mountain is no good, aye," he replied absent-mindedly, "'Tis too bad. But, I got a new assignment for you, Davian." King Kirrent chuckled nastily as he looked at the confused expression on Davian's face, which could have been there either because the lizard was bewildered at how he was not going to be punished or because he simply didn't know what the word "assignment" meant. Davian wasn't too stupid for a lizard, but that really wasn't saying much.

King Kirrent continued, "Two of the scouts I sent came back. The first one found some sort of village or somethin', easy stuff so I sent Corzon to go check it out. You know he can't handle complicated stuff. The second one found some sort of red fort. I was thinkin' of sending Kalzmar to check that place out, but she's my best general and all, so I decided to wait 'til you came back, so you could check it out."

Davian nodded enthusiastically. "Check it out" was King Kirrent's way of saying "conquer it", "steal it", or "destroy it". Using the best of his mental capacity, Davian determined that King Kirrent wanted him to conquer the red fort place.

"Aye, I see you're willin' to go," King Kirrent smiled, "You can leave tomorrow, then. Bring twenty lizards…" King Kirrent paused, remembering how the previous twenty lizards to go out with Davian had been slaughtered, "Nah, forty lizards, the strongest ones you can find."

"Yez, Your Eckzellenzy!" Davian turned quickly and began to leave. The general was halfway out of the tent when King Kirrent suddenly realized something and stopped him.

"Not so fast, Davian," King Kirrent snapped. Davian wheeled back around extremely fast, listening intently. "Now, the scout said that the fort was surrounded by these tall red walls. How do you plan on getting past those?"

Davian scratched his head. His eyes went blank, as if he were in deep thought. King Kirrent chuckled again at the humorous display. After a few moments, Davian merely shrugged.

"How about this?" King Kirrent suggested in a tone of mock caring, "You know that ladder that Corzon found in that hut, aye?" After a second or two, Davian nodded. "How about you bring that? You can use it to climb over the walls."

Davian paused for a moment, and then shouted, "Yez, Your Eckzellenzy!" Then the lizard general turned and left. After he had been gone for several moments, King Kirrent burst into laughter. The lizards were such idiots.

---

Unbeknownst to both King Kirrent and General Davian, there had been two eavesdroppers listening to their conversation. Right outside of the tent, hidden by a good amount of bushes and shrubbery, were two Long Patrol hares that were neither fresh recruits nor tired old veterans.

"D'you hear that?" whispered the first one, "That oafish lizard is going to try and take over Redwall!"

The second one, who was only slightly older but much wiser, quickly replied, "Be quiet, or we'll be heard. Now, let's get back to Lord Oxpaw and tell him what we heard. Then we can talk about it."

Without another word, the two hares quickly vanished from the swamp, completely undetected.


	2. The Guide

II: The Guide

General Davian scratched his head in confusion. They were lost.

It had been three days since his conversation with King Kirrent. His expedition to the red fort had started well enough, no problems whatsoever. King Kirrent had given him directions on how to get there, and they were as easy to follow as possible. The only problem was that Davian had completely forgotten them halfway through the journey.

At the moment, Davian and the lizards were sitting at the bank of a stream, trying to recall which way King Kirrent had told them to go.

"He zed to go zouth at ztream!" suddenly exclaimed one lizard.

"No, he zed north!" shouted another angrily.

"Zouth!"

"North!"

The two lizards that had been shouting began fighting. They went semi-ignored by the rest of the lizards.

"Mebbe we crozz ztream?" suggested an optimistic-sounding lizard named Darkscale. General Davian shrugged, not recalling anything about crossing a stream anywhere in King Kirrent's directions.

The two lizards that had been fighting had drawn a few more lizards into the brawl. Trying to express the simple leadership skills King Kirrent had taught him, Davian shouted, "Ztop fighting! It no good! It izz no good!" Davian added the last bit after remembering the simple grammar skills King Kirrent had taught him.

The fighting continued to escalate. Davian frowned, unsure of what to do now. He turned to Darkscale for a suggestion, but Darkscale held no answers.

Suddenly, a loud voice yelled, "Hey! Lookit what I get!"

Curious, the lizards stopped fighting and looked to see what had been gotten. They were all looking at a well-respected lizard named Marclaw, who had just appeared from the forest holding a very scared-looking ferret in mid-air by the scruff of his neck.

"Food!" one of the lizards shouted. The ferret began squirming in an attempt to break away from Marclaw, but the lizard was much stronger than him. As the other lizards advanced hungrily, it was General Davian who stepped in.

"Wait! Mebbe he knowz the red fort!" shouted the general. The lizards froze, pondering this new development with great interest.

Not hesitating one moment, the panic-stricken ferret screeched, "Aye! I know the red fort! I know the red fort!" Luckily for him, he actually did know the red fort. Everybeast in Mossflower knew the red fort, almost.

Marclaw kneed the unfortunate ferret in the stomach. "Then you tell uz! Tell uz the red fort!" For good measure, he kneed the ferret a second time.

The ferret, knowing that his life was on the line, recovered quickly. "Uh… the red fort. They call it Redwall, y'see. It's this big abbey thing, and it's, uh, red, and a bunch of warrior mice live in there, uh, and, um, uh…"

Marclaw didn't knee the ferret this time; instead, he brought down his free claw on the ferret's head. "We not caring! Tell uz where red fort izz! Tell uz now!"

"Well, uh, yeah," the ferret paused. If he told them where it was, there was nothing stopping them from killing him on the spot. If he were to—

Another punch from Marclaw brought the ferret back into reality. "Uh, yeah, Redwall! I'll, uh, lead ya to it, yeah!"

Marclaw looked dissatisfied. The ferret braced himself for another punch, but before Marclaw could do anything, General Davian stepped in, as if suddenly remembering that he was in charge there, not Marclaw. "Good, very good, yez," the general said in his slithery, reptilian voice, snatching the ferret from Marclaw as if he were some sort of toy, "You lead uz, now."

"I would love to, yeah, but, um, you kinda have to, um, put me down first," the ferret mumbled. Abruptly, Davian let go, and the ferret fell to the ground in a heap. The lizards all laughed.

The ferret got up and brushed himself off, looking around uneasily. Marclaw stopped laughing and shouted, "Get on! Move! Now!" The lizards all stopped laughing and stared at the ferret, who began walking off, going in the direction of Redwall. Most of the lizards simply followed him, but Marclaw walked right alongside him, giving off a menacing, hungry smile.

The ferret gulped visibly and continued on.

---

About ten minutes later, a completely nondescript stoat bumbled into the exact same area where the lizards had been previously. He had been scouring the area for food, along with his friend, the ferret, when suddenly the ferret had vanished.

After a bit of searching, he picked up on the ferret's trail, and followed it to here. What he saw distressed him. There were a lot of tracks, and they were all jumbled up, so he couldn't quite tell how many creatures had been here, but it had been a large amount. And all of them were lizards.

The stoat picked up his comrade's trail again, in the midst of all the lizard tracks. They were leading north. The only thing north from here was—

"Hey-o, Wemys!" came a voice from the trees. The stoat recognized it immediately.

"'Ello, Swiss. Why are ya here?" Wemys responded dully, not bothering to turn around. Swiss was an annoyance, a stupid old somebeast (no creature in the little band of vermin they traveled with could tell what exactly Swiss was; the general consensus, however, was that he was a pine marten, because none of them had ever seen a pine marten and they knew Swiss was like nothing they had ever seen before) who appeared at the most inopportune moments and oftentimes had messed things up immensely.

"Oh, I'm just walkin' round, y'know, nothing fancy or anything," Swiss droned innocently. For any other creature in the group, Wemys wouldn't have believed that story for a second, but for Swiss, it was a perfectly reasonable explanation.

"Well, guess what? I got a job for ya," Wemys said, hoping that Swiss wouldn't get excited and start yelling or something. You never knew with Swiss. After a few seconds of silence, Wemys continued, "I need you to go back to the rest and tell 'em that I think Limptail's bein' chased by a group of lizards and that they're all going towards Redwall. You think you can remember that?"

Swiss smiled and restated what Wemys said, as if proving his competence, "A group of lizards captured Redwall and Limptail's in there!" Beaming, Swiss did not notice Wemys clutch his forehead in aggravation. Why couldn't somebeast competent show up? Why did it always have to be Swiss?

"Nevermind, Swiss, nevermind. I'll just tell them myself. Com'n, let's go." Wemys brushed past Swiss in annoyance. The bumbling fool simply shrugged and followed him back to camp, not knowing what he did wrong.


	3. The Colonel

III: The Colonel

King Kirrent was busy grumbling to himself over his conceived misfortune when General Kalzmar, his smartest and most trusted general, dashed in, her spear at the ready. For a split second, King Kirrent was terrified that Kalzmar was going to assassinate him, that she had turned on him and decided to take control herself. Then, Kalzmar stopped progressing towards him, and King Kirrent breathed an inward sigh of relief.

"Bad newz!" Kalzmar exclaimed, "Very bad newz! Longearz, lotz and lotz of longearz, juzt like Davian sed! They wanna zpeak to you, yez!" Kalzmar pointed outside with her spear.

Apprehensively, King Kirrent rose. Oddly enough, he was less afraid now than when he was when he thought Kalzmar was going to assassinate him. Hares could be reasoned with. King Kirrent was confident that he could talk his way out of whatever problem Davian had unknowingly brought back with him. Very confident. He had talked his way into ruling a legion of lizards, he could talk his way out of this.

King Kirrent exited his tent. At the end of the swamp was a gigantic army of hares, perhaps eighty, maybe even a hundred. The lizards stood around, frozen in shock. King Kirrent brushed past them, with Kalzmar right behind him. As he got closer to the army, he noticed that the badger Davian had described was apparently absent. That was good. King Kirrent hoped he'd never have to see another badger again, after what that one had done to Captain Scarback and the rest of Kirrent's mateys.

At the head of the army was a hare that was luxuriously decorated with all types of medals, which twinkled and glittered in the sun. As King Kirrent moved past the last of the lizards, the hare shouted, "So _you're _this King Kirrent the Great chap, the slayer of a thousand lizards? Pchaw! I expected another lizard, or maybe even a toad. You're just a bally searat, although you do resemble a reptile, I must say!" 

King Kirrent scowled, and began to speak. The hare cut him off with a wave of his paw. "Ah, yes. I expect you want my name now. Well, I'm Colonel Caldwell Morian Lardergutter, but you can just call me Colonel. Now, what's a bally searat like yourself doing leading a bunch of newts like these?"

"Newtz?" Kalzmar spat, although she went completely ignored.

King Kirrent felt his temper rising. He was not a 'bally searat', he was a king. King Kirrent. And he was not leading a bunch of newts, they were lizards! How stupid could the hare be, thinking they were newts!

"They aren't newts, ya moron! They're lizards!" King Kirrent shot, waiting for the hare to realize his mistake and become embarrassed. Instead, Caldwell merely began laughing hysterically.

"Hahaha! Now I, hahaha, now I see why Lord Oxpaw didn't feel a need to come here, you're a blinking lot of nincompoops! Hahaha!" Caldwell bellowed. King Kirrent's blood boiled.

Forgetting everything he had previously planned about talking his way out of it, he shouted in an incredibly high pitch, "Kill that hare!!! I want his head!!!" However, as soon as the words left his mouth, he realized his mistake and feverishly wished that he could go back in time five seconds. The lizards all simultaneously snapped out of their awkward trance-like state and rushed forward haphazardly.

King Kirrent could have shouted for the lizards to stop, but it was far too late even though it had only just begun. The lizards were all too eager to get at the hare who had called them newts. Colonel Caldwell instantly stopped laughing and unsheathed a long sword, slaying a lizard who had been in front, then motioned for his troops.

Kalzmar began to rush forward, but King Kirrent grabbed her by the neck and pulled her back. "Wait, ya idiot! Can't ya see you'll be slaughtered?!" he shouted, as if he hadn't just ordered her to attack them.

"But you zed…" Kalzmar began, completely confused.

"I said nothing! Now, come on, we gotta get out of here while we still can!" King Kirrent exclaimed, sneaking a quick glance at the fighting. It was more of a massacre. The lizards were being slaughtered as they ran at the hares one by one, with absolutely no thought for strategy or teamwork. The hares hadn't even amassed a single casualty.

King Kirrent and General Kalzmar began running in the opposite direction of all the lizards. Halfway through the camp, Kalzmar got an idea and began stopping all the lizards they passed, having them join in the retreat. King Kirrent didn't care, running as fast as he could (although he didn't shed his heavy robe, so he still only went a little faster than the lizards).

King Kirrent oh-so-valiantly led the remnants of his army out of the swamp frantically, fearing what would happen if the hares caught him. He crashed through a bunch of trees, tripped and rolled down a hill, and cut his footpaw on a jagged rock, but he kept going. Finally, after quite a bit of traipsing through the forest, the sounds of fighting could no longer be heard, and King Kirrent stopped at the edge of a stream, catching his breath.

Kalzmar and about fifteen other lizards all appeared behind him and ceased running accordingly, looking around in confusion. They had no idea what had just transpired. After about a minute, one lizard piped up, "We go home now?"

King Kirrent spat. "Home? Ya called that worthless swamp home? No, we can't go back. Not now, not ever. We're lucky if those idiot hares aren't after us right now. No, we can't go home, but we can do this. Just this week, I sent Davian and Corzon out to check some places out, y'see? If we meet up with 'em, they might have gotten us a new place to live, maybe even an actual castle!"

The lizards looked at each other excitedly and began to growl and hiss amongst themselves, similar to how they had done when Kirrent had first slain that one lizard a few seasons ago. King Kirrent held up his paw for silence. "First, we're going to go and meet up with Corzon. I gave him the simplest instructions possible: Go west and follow the stream until he reached his destination. This stream we're at right now is that stream, y'see? So, we should be able to meet up with Corzon in a day, maybe less." King Kirrent looked around, satisfied. The lizards looked satisfied, too. "Any questions?"

Oddly enough, General Kalzmar raised her claw, as if she were in school. "I have one, yez. You zed you were zlayer of a thouzand lizardz… Why you not be the zlayer of a thouzand longearz?"

There was a short silence. King Kirrent was caught off-guard. It was not like Kalzmar to question authority. However, King Kirrent already knew what to say whenever he was asked a question he didn't feel like answering.

"The answer to that question is too complicated for you lizards to understand, y'see? It would just make ya more confused, which I don't want right now," King Kirrent replied. The lizards all looked at each other, knowing that whatever the answer to the question was, it had to be very smart, so smart that only King Kirrent could understand it.

All of them looked satisfied… except for Kalzmar.

---

Colonel Caldwell looked over the swamp. There wasn't a single lizard left alive, that was for sure. There also wasn't a single dead hare. "What a bally joke," Caldwell announced to himself, "We could've routed that lot with twenty of us. There was no need for seventy. I do wonder where that blinking searat went, though."

The two hares who had spied on King Kirrent approached the colonel, saluting smartly. "Sorry about recommending you bring so many troops, sah, but you know the saying, it's better safe than sorry," the older one reported.

"Yes, yes, I know that, Gavin, I'm not reprimanding you or anything," Caldwell replied. Then he changed the subject. "Now, you said that bally searat sent forty of these lizards to conquer Redwall?"

The two hares nodded simultaneously. The younger one interjected, "They left about three days ago, sah. That means they might be there by now, assuming they didn't get lost or anything."

Caldwell stroked his long moustache. "Hmm… Well, we ought to bally well go and check up on the Redwallers, make sure that they don't need any help or the like. Of course, I don't doubt that they could handle forty of these blinking lizards without any trouble, it's better safe than sorry, wot wot?"

The two hares nodded. "Of course," Caldwell continued, "There's no need to bring so many hares. Six of us will suffice. The rest can go back to Salamandastron, in case some _real _trouble shows up. Like that one horde, the one led by the bally weasel whatshisface."

"Six, sah?" the younger hare questioned, "Isn't that a bit too small of a force? There are forty lizards, sah."

Caldwell chuckled heartily. "Maudy, didn't you ever hear about those three hares that took on a hundred searats and nearly routed them all? Six hares are more than enough to deal with a bunch of bally lizards, especially if I'm one of them. One of the hares, I mean. Not one of the lizards." When Maudy said nothing, Caldwell said, "Now, I'll go, and you two will go, and then three other hares, haven't decided who yet. Dismissed!"

Caldwell turned and marched off. When he was gone, Gavin turned to Maudy, saying, "I did hear about those three hares, y'know. Most of 'em died." Nonchalantly, he shrugged, with Maudy giving him a morbid look.


	4. The Village

IV: The Village

General Corzon stood in the doorway a small, poorly furnished house, wondering what to do with the cowering family of voles in front of him. They didn't have anything shiny or interesting that he could take back to King Kirrent, they weren't very shiny or interesting themselves, and they didn't even have anything good to eat. Perhaps he could eat them, they looked slightly tasty.

As if reading the lizard's thoughts, the biggest vole exclaimed, "Please, don't eat us! Let us go! Please!"

Corzon looked at them blankly. Why shouldn't he eat them? They didn't have anything shiny or interesting to give him, and they—

Something caught Corzon's eye. It was a small glimmer on a table in an adjacent room. Completely forgetting the voles, he slowly approached it, his interest undivided. It was a small silver spoon next to a wooden bowl of soup. Corzon knocked the bowl of soup away, and it clattered to the ground with a splash.

Seizing the spoon, Corzon examined it closely. It was both shiny _and _interesting. What could this odd thing do? It was sort of like a handheld bowl.

"We have more of those!" shouted one of voles, "Much more! You can have them all, if you let us go!"

Corzon contemplated this for all of two seconds. Then he replied, "Where izz it? Tell me, and you go!" Very rapidly, the vole jumped to a cabinet and yanked out a drawer full of shiny silver objects. Many were like the one Corzon had in his hand, but there were others, too, ones with pointy ends and ones with jagged edges.

The lizard general took the drawer out of the vole's hand and spilt its contents all over the floor. He picked them up one by one, examined them, and then dropped them back onto the ground haphazardly. They were all equally shiny and interesting, and he was sure that King Kirrent would be greatly pleased.

Corzon was so engrossed in this examination that he didn't notice the voles swiftly depart. He wouldn't have cared if he did, however. They had given him the shiny and interesting objects.

After he had carefully looked over each object, he tossed them all into a fairly large bag that he held, where they joined the rest of the shiny and interesting objects Corzon had been given- An iron padlock, a couple of coins, and a small wooden statuette that wasn't shiny at all but loads interesting.

Making sure he didn't miss any of the shiny utensils, he marched out of the house, and motioned to two lizards with torches. Grinning maliciously, the two lizards set fire to the home. Within minutes it was engulfed in flame.

Corzon had come to the village like a plague. His forty lizards had all charged down from a hill, waving their claws and growling frantically. The villagers had been so scared that they had surrendered right then and there without a fight. Corzon then put them all back into their houses and had his soldiers guard them, while he got a good rest after all that fighting and thinking he had done.

Then he had gone house by house, scouring them for shiny and interesting objects, and then subsequently burning the house down once he was done. Sometimes, the occupants of the house were all too willing to give him anything shiny and interesting they had, and Corzon repaid them by granting them their freedom. Those that hadn't had anything, or those that had tried to hide their things, he had given them to his soldiers as a meal.

One by one, Corzon went to the houses, and one by one, they burnt to the ground. Now, only one house remained, that of a solitary old otter. Corzon past by the two guards and entered the hut casually, the shiny and interesting things in his bag tinkling as they struck each other.

"Who's there?!" demanded the old otter, who was rocking back and forth in a chair on the far end of the house, "I want to know what's going on! I've been stuck in this house for days now and I don't know why! Who's there? What do you want?"

"Ehh… I izz Corzon, yez. I izz here for zhiny and interezting thingz. Now, give zhiny and interezting thingz," Corzon shouted, looking over the house. There was a cupboard, a table, some chairs, and was that a giant fish?!

The old otter yelled something at him, but he didn't hear. The lizard moved slowly towards what had to be the greatest thing in all of ever, a gigantic fish that was mounted on a wall. It looked alive, but it was dead! And yet it hadn't rotted or anything! Corzon poked the fish, which seemed frozen in time. It sure wasn't shiny, but it was even more interesting than all the things in his bag combined!

"Ah, yeah, I caught that about ten seasons ago!" the old otter recanted proudly, "It was a great day, the sun all shining, and… Hey, whaddya you think you're doin'?"

Corzon had removed the stuffed fish from the wall and was shoving it into his bag, although it didn't quite fit. "Thiz izz mine, yez! Mine!"

"You brute! I'll teach you a lesson!" The old otter leapt from his rocking chair and, with unexpected agility, leapt forward and grabbed the trophy from Corzon's claws. The lizard general looked at the empty spot where the fish had been just a few seconds ago in disbelief. The bag fell to the floor, with a few silver utensils flying out.

Corzon turned to the old otter, furious. "That izz MINE!" he shouted, right in the otter's face. The elder recoiled as he was hit by a blast of putrid breath. Corzon then drew his long, curved sword, lifting it high above his head, ready to bring a swift end to the old otter.

The door to the house burst open, and a lizard named Rankeye came running in. "Corzon! Corzon! Corzon! It izz King Kirrent! He here to zee you!" shouted Rankeye frantically.

Corzon suddenly forgot all about the old otter and the fish. He pushed Rankeye to the side and hurried out, eager to show King Kirrent his bounty of shiny and interesting items. He didn't quite know why the king was there, but he didn't quite care.

King Kirrent and Kalzmar were standing just outside the door. Corzon walked right up to them, and thrust his bag into their faces. "Lookit, King Kirrent! I haz many zhiny and interezting thingz for you, yez!" Corzon exclaimed eagerly, absolutely beaming. King Kirrent, however, did not have such a joyous expression on his face.

Kalzmar grabbed the bag and emptied its contents out on the ground. King Kirrent eyed them briefly, then shouted, "This is it?! Where's the village?! All I see is this one house and a lot of burnt wood!! Did I tell you to burn down the village? Did I?!" King Kirrent picked up the wooden statuette and heaved it as far as he could throw. It ended up landing a patch of mud.

Corzon was crestfallen. "But… but… but… I haz zhiny and interezting thingz for you!!" he threw out in his defense.

Suddenly, it all made sense for King Kirrent. Of course Corzon had only gone for the shiny and interesting things- Corzon had been his head general when it came to ransacking the merchants' things. All he had ever had to do was pick out the choice items and burn the rest. It was no wonder why he had also done the same here.

Nevertheless, King Kirrent was still angry. He had been hoping for a nice, warm bed to spend the night in, after a few seasons of sleeping in a dusty old hammock in his cold tent. Why did Corzon have to be so stupid? Kalzmar and Davian would have known what to do. At least they could handle simple tasks. Corzon, however… King Kirrent was surprised that he hadn't accidentally made an end to himself by eating a bone or something. And he didn't even want to know how it had taken Corzon nearly a whole week just to burn down a small village.

"Gaah… I need to rest," King Kirrent sighed miserably, "Kalzmar, organize the troops. We're gonna try to meet up with Davian now, although I don't know how we're supposed to get to that red fort from here. Corzon… Just don't mess anything up. Make sure I am not disturbed. Oh, and don't do anything ever again unless I specifically tell you to."

As King Kirrent walked by him, Corzon let out a sob. The searat merely shook his head in disgust. He opened the door to the last remaining house of the village, prepared for a well-deserved nap. He didn't expect to get it so soon. The old otter leapt out of his house as soon as the door opened, smacking King Kirrent upside the head with an iron frying pan. The rat fell like a log, unconscious.

Kalzmar and Corzon watched in interest as the old otter made his escape, lugging along a pack filled with all sorts of things, last of which being the stuffed fish. Neither made any effort to stop him. After all, King Kirrent had not made the order to.

---

Expectedly, King Kirrent woke with an extremely bad temper and a throbbing head. At least somebeast had been nice enough to put him in the bed of the old otter's house. Maybe that somebeast would get a promotion, King Kirrent thought to himself.

The rat king got up, and then nearly petrified in fright. Corzon was standing right over him, his sword drawn and above his head. He was going to be assassinated! Corzon brought down the curved blade, and King Kirrent braced himself for the worst.

Nothing happened, however. Corzon simply put the sword back in its sheath. King Kirrent suddenly realized that Corzon had not been there to assassinate him, but in fact had been saluting him with his sword. As for the standing directly over him, it just seemed like something Corzon would do.

"King Kirrent!" Corzon exclaimed, "All troopz ready for orderz!"

"Get back!" King Kirrent shouted, "You're crowding me! It's uncomfortable!" Swiftly, Corzon jumped backwards. King Kirrent frowned. It seemed as if Corzon had sought to make amends by being right there for his king, but, like usual, had just bungled things up.

King Kirrent got up, and put on his long robe, paying Corzon no heed. He didn't want to talk with such incompetent soldiers. He quickly exited the house, with Corzon right behind him.

All fifty or so lizards were lined up in some sort of formation outside, with Kalzmar at the head of them. Apparently, they had really wanted to impress their king. Either way, though, their formation wasn't like any the rat had ever seen before. "Good job, Kalzmar," King Kirrent announced idly, "I can count on you, I see."

Kalzmar did not change in the slightest, although King Kirrent believed that Corzon had made some sort of reaction behind him.

"Now, since some idiot general burnt this village to the ground, we're gonna have to meet up with General Davian, who is checkin' out some red fort. Of course, I don't know how to get there."

Somewhere in the back of the formation, a lizard shouted, "I know! I know! I went there firzt!" The lizard pushed his way through the group until he was right in front of King Kirrent.

The rat recognized him immediately- it was the scout who had initially reported back with news of the red fort. Oddly enough, this just made the king angrier. Hadn't anybeast thought that maybe this lizard should have gone with Davian, not Corzon? Of course not, that was far beyond the levels of reasoning that the lizards could achieve. King Kirrent bet that the scout who had reported back with the news of the village had gone with Davian. In this crazy, messed-up world of idiocy, it made perfect sense.

King Kirrent said none of this, however. While Corzon had been an idiot by taking this particular lizard with him, it was of great benefit now.

"You were, eh?" King Kirrent said to the one lizard but announced to all, "Now, lizard, what's yer name?"

"Uh…" the lizard paused, as if he couldn't remember his own name (which wasn't a good sign, King Kirrent mused to himself bitterly), "My name izz Zalazz! Zalazz!" The lizard repeated it twice, for some reason King Kirrent had no idea of.

"Zalazz, eh? Well, Zalazz, then you'll just lead the way, right?" King Kirrent asked. Zalazz nodded spastically.

King Kirrent's luck finally seemed to be turning around. He just hoped that Davian had been able to conquer the red fort.


	5. The Ladder

V: The Ladder

Limptail the captive ferret scratched his head in confusion. They were lost.

Of course, he had no intention of letting the hungry lizards behind him know that. He turned left and right, seemingly confident that he was going in the right direction. None of them suspected anything yet, not even the one that was always nearby and smiling evilly, Marclaw.

Truth be told, he wasn't completely lost. He knew exactly where he was now, and he knew exactly how to get back to his camp from here. He knew most of this area like the back of his paw. However, he had only ever seen Redwall once, at a distance and obscured by foliage. It had been many seasons ago, and Conrad, the wily fox that led the small band of vermin Limptail was part of, had told him never to go anywhere near there again. The fox had said that the place was filled with warriors and magic swords and all kinds of crazy-sounding things. Limptail didn't doubt it, however, and he had never been back there again.

However, now he didn't know how to get there at all. His memory was foggy; he knew it was somewhere in the general area, but he couldn't remember whether to take a left turn at one tree or a right turn at another. And his memory wasn't helped by Marclaw, whose toothy smile never seemed to cease.

And even if the ferret could remember exactly how to get to Redwall, did he really want to go? Even Conrad was scared of the place, and Conrad wasn't scared of anything (except perhaps his fraud of a sister who, one night, attempted to kill him as he slept, stealing all of his things and leaving him for dead). It was really like picking his poison: Death by a bunch of hungry lizards, or death by a bunch of warrior mice. And he may still be killed by the lizards anyways, once he did what the only thing they kept him alive for.

Lost in these troublesome thoughts, Limptail suddenly stepped out of the forest, and into the darkness of night. In front of him was Redwall, serene and peaceful in under the moonlit sky.

"Imprezzive," Davian simply said, stretching his vocabulary to the absolute maximum, and that moment was the only time the lizards took to admire the beauty of the fort. "Now, we take it over for King Kirrent, yez! Where izz the ladder? Get it against wall, we climb over!"

The lizards helped to prop the rotten, flimsy ladder against the stone wall. Unfortunately, it leaned profusely, much to Davian's disappointment. He couldn't climb up a ladder that was leaning so much. The general decided to put his best problem-solving skills to the best, racking his brain for answers.

"Yez! I know!" he exclaimed after a minute or two. The lizards, who had been simply staring up at the walls, all turned to him. "Darkzcale! Marclaw! You two hold ladder, yez! Then we go up!"

Limptail breathed a sigh of relief as Marclaw left his side. He and Darkscale held one side of the ladder each, and it righted itself, standing almost completely straight. Davian smiled in satisfaction.

The general stepped onto the first rung of the ladder. It snapped cleanly in half, and Davian fell back to the floor. The lizards began to laugh, but an icy glare from Davian silenced them. He stepped onto the second rung, not putting so much weight on it. Luckily, it held.

Davian began climbing up the ladder, followed one by one by the other lizards. Every once in a while, a weak rung broke, and Davian once had a very close call, almost falling backwards.

Then, after Davian was about three quarters of the way up, he realized a second problem: The ladder wasn't tall enough. It stopped a quite a few lengths below the top of the wall. However, the lizards below him were almost pushing him up now; he didn't have time to think of a solution here.

General Davian reached the top of the ladder. The top of the wall was so close now, just out of reach. The lizard snuck a quick peek down. It was a long drop, Davian realized. If he fell from here, he could break almost every bone in his body. Davian looked back up. The top of the wall was so close…

Mustering up all his energy, Davian leapt up from the top of the ladder. It was an impressive jump. Davian's claws hit the top of the wall, and he latched on like a parasite. The ladder shook below him, but Darkscale and Marclaw managed to keep it steady.

Davian pulled himself up. He was on the top of the wall, inside the red fort. He looked down into what he planned to conquer. There wasn't a single creature moving about. They were all sleeping, Davian hypothesized. If that was the case, then taking over this place would be easier than he had previously thought. Unfortunately, he hadn't counted on Colonel Caldwell.

---

Colonel Caldwell had kept his small squad of six hares (including himself) moving at a breakneck pace. He wasn't particularly worried about Redwall; they could handle a small group of forty oafish lizards without a problem. However, he wasn't going to slack off on his way there just because of that. Caldwell held duty in very high regard. He would only strive for the best he could do. And, he couldn't wait to have some of that heavenly food.

He was sure that the hares he had taken with him had complained inwardly, but none of them had done so outwardly. That was a sign of good training, Caldwell thought to himself. They were incredibly near Redwall now, and Caldwell had hurried his troops' pace, wanting to be there before it got too late. There was no reason to spend an extra night sleeping in tents when they could be sleeping in nice, warm beds.

The small squad burst out of the forest and were met with an awkward sight. A large group of lizards were climbing up a ladder that wasn't tall enough to reach the top of the wall. In fact, the lizard at the top of the ladder had stopped and was looking around dumbly.

"The ladder isn't even stable, sah," Gavin pointed out, as if he too had felt the scene to be humorous, "Look, they've got two of those brutes holding it up. And what's with that one ferret?"

A hare named Sedgewick joined in, holding a javelin in one paw. "How about I give those bally lizards a wake-up call, wot wot?"

---

Darkscale yawned. It was late, he was tired. He hoped that Davian wouldn't take too long conquering the red fort, he wanted to sleep. After all the lizards were off the ladder, he may just go to bed anyways, right there on the earth.

A javelin landed inches from him, embedded in the ground. Darkscale took a few seconds to register this. As soon as he did, however, he jumped back, screaming, "We under attaaaaaaaaack!!!"

This had been the desired effect of Sedgwick. With Darkscale no longer holding the ladder, it suddenly began leaning to one side drastically. Marclaw shouted to his ferret friend, "Grab that ladder!" But it was too late. With a large group of screaming lizards clinging to it for dear life, the ladder leaned to the left, then simply plunged backwards in mid-air.

From the safety of the top of the wall, Davian watched in horror as the ladder hit the ground with an extremely large crash amid a myriad of extremely loud screams. He saw the hares, six of them, and panicked. What if there were more? What if the badger was with them?!

Davian bolted, looking for a way down from the wall. After a few moments of frantic searching, he saw a staircase, leading down to ground. Davian took the stairs three at a time, searching for a way out, a way away from the hares and the badger.

Then Davian realized he had more problems. A door to some building swung open, and a gaggle of creatures materialized out of it, wondering what all the ruckus was about. Davian turned his search from finding a way out to finding a place to hide. He was in the middle of a yard, though, and the only thing near him was a big fruit tree.

That was it! He'd hide in the fruit tree! Lizards weren't exceptional climbers, but Davian was up the tree like a lightning bolt. The abbeybeasts filing out of their rooms never even noticed him. Davian breathed a very large sigh of relief as he clung to a branch.

That was a temporary end to Davian's problems. Marclaw, however, was finding things not so simple. He had rallied the lizards that hadn't been crushed to death by the ladder and led an attack on the six hares. However, the hares fought like demons and most of the surviving lizards bore serious injuries, such as broken limbs, from their fall.

As the hares massacred the injured lizards, Marclaw slunk back a little. If he could just get at the leader… There! Darkscale had injured one of hares. It wasn't the leader, but Marclaw was already formulating a basic plan.

Marclaw dashed forward, his slim, wavy sword drawn. Pushing Darkscale aside, he grabbed the injured hare, the same one that had thrown the javelin, Sedgewick, and held his blade up to the unfortunate hare's throat.

"Zurrender now or longearz diez, yez!" Marclaw yelled. Both the lizards and the hares stopped fighting, with the small group of surviving lizards and the one ferret converging behind Marclaw, as if he were their leader.

"You dishonorable brute!" Sedgewick exclaimed. Marclaw merely laughed, not exactly knowing what 'dishonorable' meant.

Caldwell was furious. He knew the lizards were mean, but he didn't expect them to be so ruthless. The other lizards simply looked confused, though… Perhaps it was just this one, with the toothy smile…

"Now, we go, and longearz izz zafe, yez?" Marclaw negotiated. The four hares behind Caldwell all looked ready to lunge forward to tear the lizard apart if he did anything to Sedgwick.

"Fine, then, you bally lizard," Caldwell shouted back. At least he hadn't asked him to lay down his weapons, then it'd have been a tough spot. This was a very simple request.

Marclaw smiled and began backing up slowly. The few remaining lizards backed up accordingly, so that Marclaw was always in front. One by one, they all vanished back into the forest, until only Marclaw was left.

"Now, let him go," Caldwell demanded. Marclaw smiled even wider, and then began to laugh. Without any warning, he slashed Sedgewick's throat and threw the dying hare to the floor unceremoniously, right before he vanished into the forest himself.

Caldwell nearly exploded with anger. He charged forward into the forest, right after Marclaw, shouting unintelligibly, followed by the four other hares.


	6. The Hunt

VI: The Hunt

Marclaw dashed through Mossflower Woods, crashing through branches and bushes. All of a sudden, he was wondering why exactly he had killed the hare. It had seemed like a good idea at the time… one less hare to deal with when he went back (and he had every intention of going back). Of course, he hadn't expected the other hares to start chasing after him with so much anger. It was just one hare… Marclaw wouldn't care at all if one lizard had been killed.

The lizard snuck a quick peek back. He couldn't see the hares, but that didn't mean anything. They could be just a few feet behind him, obscured by all the greenery in the forest. And they—

Marclaw suddenly lurched forward. The ground had abruptly sloped downward. Losing his balance, he toppled headfirst into the dirt and rolled all the way down the hill, into a tree.

Dazed and confused, Marclaw rubbed his head. It throbbed in pain. He didn't have long to whimper over his injuries, though. He could hear the hares now, right at the top of the hill. Just as he was about to leap into action and continue running, he was grabbed from behind and dragged into a large amount of bushes and shrubbery, quite painfully.

The five hares hurtled down the hill. Within seconds, they were gone, having continued their romp after the lizards. They hadn't seen Marclaw hidden in the bushes. The lizard jumped up immediately, though, and looked to see who had dragged him there. It was Darkscale, who, along with five other lizards and the ferret, were also hidden behind the bushes.

"That wuz cloze!" Darkscale exclaimed, his eyes wide, "I think Raggort an' Greenblood got caught, yez! We not, though! We hide, yez!" Darkscale motioned at the six others with a claw.

Limptail looked around nervously. He had been hoping that the hares would have gotten Marclaw, but Darkscale just had to save him. Oh, and he could add another thing to the ever-growing list of poisons to choose from: Long Patrol hares. How had he gotten into this mess? And now there wasn't even General Davian to realize that he was in charge and restrain Marclaw. The ferret shivered as his tormenter cast a grim eye on him.

Marclaw frowned, although it wasn't at Limptail. There were only eight of them total, and they had to go back, rescue General Davian, and conquer the red fort. And now they didn't even have a ladder to use to sneak in. At least the hares were out of they way- for now. Eventually, they'd come back, so they had to work quickly.

"We go back now," Marclaw ordered, "Hurry, afore longearz come back." Without even waiting for the lizards, he began marching back they way he had come.

"Uhh… Why?" Darkscale asked, "What can we do? Davian izz gone."

"Davian izz in the red fort, scalebrain!" Marclaw shouted, hitting Darkscale, "We rezcue him and we take over the red fort!" Marclaw then turned and continued. Darkscale merely shrugged, then followed.

Limptail figured that now would be a good time to make an escape, with Marclaw not looking, but the five other lizards were all bunched around him. Grudgingly, he went along with the rest, glad that at least it wasn't Marclaw standing next to him, radiating his toothy smile.

---

General Davian was still stuck up in the tree. He had managed to get some good footing, and most of him was propped up on a sturdy branch. He felt that he could maintain this position for a long time, which was good, because it looked as if he may have to. Below him, abbeybeasts of all sorts were running around, chattering wildly, trying to figure out what had happened. They had brought in the body of a dead hare and many were gathered around it, with dismal expressions on their face.

An elderly mouse shouted for order, but wasn't heard. Exasperated, he leaned against the tree Davian was in. The lizard froze. All the mouse had to do was look up, and he'd be spotted. Davian didn't even dare breathe, lest the mouse have some sort of super-hearing and be alerted to his presence. However, after less then five seconds, the mouse left, calling for order again.

After about ten minutes or so, the mouse finally got the order he was yelling for, and demanded that they go inside to discuss the situation in detail. Davian watched them all file into another building, leaving him alone outside.

Still, he did not move. He couldn't see a way out. Nothing in the abbey made any sense. There were buildings and walls and grass and even a pond, but everything was all confusing. There had to be doors somewhere, he had seen then on the outside. But the only doors he saw led into buildings, not outside.

Then Davian saw it. It had been behind him, so he had to crane his head backwards in a painful position, but he saw it. There was a small door, not as big as the one he had seen from the outside, but it was in the wall, so Davian assumed it went outside. If he made a run for it… Davian looked back at the door where everybeast had gone in. What if one came out? Davian decided to stay put… for now.

But… Davian remembered how there hadn't been a single creature stirring when it he had gotten to the top of the wall. Of course! They all slept at night! They were only up now because of all the loud noises! Tomorrow night, they would all be sleeping again, and Davian would be able to leave without fear of being spotted. He applauded his genius internally.

---

Colonel Caldwell gripped his sword tightly. There was a lizard around here, he was sure of it. The tracks had shown that the lizard had slowed down, probably tired from running so much, and was hiding around here somewhere. Just where, he could not tell.

The hare fervently hoped that this lizard was the one that had killed Sedgewick. This was the last of tracks; if this wasn't that lizard, then it meant that he had gotten away. Caldwell would mount a search for him tomorrow if he had, but that made it even more probable that he had completely eluded them. Not to mention, Caldwell wanted to end this now.

The colonel heard a rustle of leaves behind a tree. He motioned to the other four hares, and they all began walking towards the tree carefully. Their desire for revenge burned bright, but there was no reason for carelessness; Caldwell didn't want another hare to be killed because they had simply charged at a hidden enemy.

Caldwell got halfway to the tree when a lizard leapt out at him, swinging its claws wildly. Caldwell ran the lizard through in midair. The carcass fell to the ground in a lump.

It wasn't the same lizard that had killed Sedgewick. Caldwell realized that almost immediately. Scowling, he thrust his sword back into its sheath and began marching back, brushing past the four remaining hares.

Maudy shouted, pointing his spear out in the direction they had been going, "Wot are you doing, sah?! That lizard's still out here somewhere!"

Gavin pushed the spear down, until its point touched the earth. "We have to go back, Maudy. It's late, we're tired. We'll start being reckless; we'll be consumed by our desire for revenge. Meanwhile, the Redwallers will have no idea what happened, what's going on, anything. We need to go back, rest for the night, bury Sedgewick, and then we can resume our search," he explained calmly. Caldwell decided that he couldn't have said it any better himself.

"No!" Maudy shouted, "If we wait until tomorrow, that blinking lizard will be long gone! We'll never see him again!"

"Soldier!" Caldwell shouted, suddenly turning around and facing Maudy, "I order you to go back to Redwall, now! Are you going to defy my orders?!"

Maudy and Caldwell stared at each other for a long time. Finally, Maudy sighed. "No, sah. I'll go back to Redwall, sah."

"Good," Caldwell replied simply. Then he began marching back somberly, followed by the four hares.


	7. The Sword

VII: The Sword

It was nearly one complete day since Marclaw had slain Sedgewick. Again all of Mossflower was dark and peaceful in the night.

It was a peace that would not last.

Marclaw emerged from behind some bushes, followed by Darkscale, Limptail, and the other lizards. They had been waiting for a long time, and now they would finally be able to act. When they had reached Redwall again, the sun had begun to rise. That wasn't satisfactory for Marclaw. Abbeybeasts could be seen pacing about the ramparts, looking for something (Marclaw had thought that they were looking for them, but in truth, they were looking for the hares), and Marclaw's grand scheme would not work if they were spotted before they even got to the walls. Luckily, none of the abbey dwellers had ventured outside, as they were unsure what had been out there that had attacked them.

Then, Caldwell had returned, along with his hares. They appeared out of the forest alarmingly close to Marclaw and his group, and Marclaw later reprimanded Darkscale for having not noticed them (much to Limptail's relief, Marclaw had started taking his anger out on the lizards, instead of him). The hares went into the abbey for a long time, but came back out several hours later, along with most of the fit and able creatures from the abbey.

They split into groups and marched into the forest at different locations. Marclaw didn't know what they were doing, but it put them out of the way. Now, it was very dark, and none of the groups had returned. There were one or two creatures up on the top of the wall, but they looked old and were half-asleep. They could avoid them easily.

The lizards would make their move now.

Marclaw dashed up to the abbey wall stealthily and silently, followed by the other lizards and Limptail. Looking around to make sure he hadn't been spotted, Marclaw then ran not to the large front gate, but to one of the small side gates. Now he would initiate his master scheme to enter the abbey.

Marclaw began ramming against the door, hitting it hard several times. "Help me!" he shouted to the other lizards, and they all joined in, banging and hitting the door.

---

The night also put Davian into action. Jumping down from his tree, he ran as fast as he could to the small door in the wall that he hoped would lead him out. He had gone the whole day unmoving, and there had been several tense moments where he thought he would have been spotted, but nothing had ever happened, and now he was going to escape. He was very close to the door now… Right next to the door now… He was just about to open the door now…

The door suddenly began rattling and shaking wildly. Davian leapt back- It was a trap! The abbeybeasts had known he was there all along, and they had set up a fake door to trap him!

Davian moaned in despair, taking a staggered step back and drawing his sword, not quite ready to fight whatever burst out of the door, but ready to try.

Then a familiar voice shouted, "Help me!" This was followed by even more banging and rattling. Whatever was behind that door had captured his soldiers!

Mustering up his courage, Davian moved slowly towards the door. His soldiers were behind there, and he was prepared to fight whatever was going to get in his way! Davian leapt forward and unbolted the latch on the door. Instantly, it swung open.

Marclaw, Darkscale, and five other lizards all toppled inside in a giant heap. Davian jumped over them to the outside, swinging his sword wildly at the doppelganger that had captured his soldiers.

Limptail's quick instincts were all that saved him from getting his head lopped off by Davian's furious swinging. He dropped to the ground, just missing Davian's blade. The lizard general flailed around wildly for a few moments, then suddenly stopped, realizing that nothing was there except the one ferret that had led them to the abbey in the first place.

"Davian!" Marclaw exclaimed as he and the other lizards all got up, "We hurry! We take over the red fort!"

Davian paused. Everything was spinning around like a whirlwind. It took him a few moments to get his thoughts together. Take over the red fort…? Wait, it made sense! All of the strong creatures in the abbey had all left, to go on their search! It was dark again, everybeast was sleeping!

The general was about to say something when the sound of a door opening came from the distance. The lizards all span around to see an old denizen of Redwall walking out of one of the buildings, yawning and wondering what all the banging was that had woken him up.

Marclaw jumped into action. He charged the elder, slaying him before he even noticed that the gate was open. "Hurry! There may be more!" Marclaw hissed. Davian and Limptail clambered inside, shutting the gate behind them.

Davian began issuing orders. "Thiz izz what we'll do. Uh… Chopleg an' Greenwart, go up onto wall, zlay the zleepy onez there, yez! Darkzcale, Marclaw, an' the furry thing, go to entrance, big gate. There may be more there. The rezt go with me, into the place where they zleep."

The lizards all ran off, not hesitating to perform their orders. Limptail paused a minute, simultaneously cursing the ill luck that put him in the same group as Marclaw and cursing the fact that Davian had called him a "furry thing", then hastened after his group, who were running to a building seemingly at random.

Davian led his group of three lizards to the building most of them had gone into as it became nightfall. Davian hadn't known what to expect when he entered the building, except that it probably looked like the inside of King Kirrent's tent, the only other structure he had ever gone into in his life. To his surprise, it wasn't anything like King Kirrent's tent.

They entered some hallway. There were a bunch of doors all over the place, and a staircase, and windows, and it was really just a confusing mess. Davian didn't even know where to begin. So, he began by opening doors at random.

---

Marclaw's group was similarly confused. They had entered one building, only to find that it wasn't anything near the entrance. Darkscale opened a door and walked into a closet. Limptail opened a door and walked into another closet. Marclaw opened a door and walked into a giant hallway.

If Corzon had been in the hallway (unfortunately, he'd never get the chance), he'd have tried to shove the whole thing into his little bag. It truly was shiny and interesting. There were stained glass windows all over, and the ceiling was incredibly high. Large columns held the roof up proudly, and Marclaw felt as if he had just walked into some sort of wonder world of magic.

Then he saw the sword.

It was stationed next to some fancy tapestry with a mouse on it, but Marclaw didn't care for that. The sword looked perfect. Had Corzon seen the sword (unfortunately, he'd never get the chance for this, either) he would have instantly abandoned trying to shove the whole hallway into his bag and simply gone for it. It was at least a hundred times shinier and more interesting than the hallway itself. And if Corzon had put the sword in his bag, King Kirrent might not have thought him such a failure.

Marclaw's slim, wavy sword clattered to the ground. He wasn't even aware that he had dropped it. Limptail was, and reached for it, but Darkscale was quicker and snatched it up first. Marclaw didn't even notice that they had entered the room. He was drawn to the sword, like a moth to light. Some external force seemed to be telling him to go back, get away, it's not your sword you savage beast, but Marclaw kept telling himself that he wanted that sword _very _badly, forcing himself to keep moving on.

Marclaw grabbed the sword. It felt good in his claw. It felt as if he could kill all of those hares, and even that badger. It felt as if he could rule the world with that sword.

Then, Chopleg and Greenwart, the two lizards Davian had sent to the top of the wall, came running in. Marclaw turned around, creating an imposing figure with his new sword.

Greenwart, a lean female lizard, spoke first, "Good, we find you! We thought we lozt!"

Chopleg continued, "We haz to find Davian! Bad newz!"

"What? What izz going on?!" Darkscale demanded. Marclaw said nothing, merely stood in the background, smiling his toothy smile. Limptail glanced over at him and shivered.

"We zlay the two furry thingz on roof, juzt like Davian azked," Greenwart reported, "Then we zee longearz! They came out of forezt! It izz not good!"

Marclaw scoffed. He could kill of those hares easily, now that he had this amazing sword. "I will zpeak with them, yez," he said, "Follow me." Marclaw marched past the four others and back the way he came, holding his new sword proudly. Confused, the rest followed.

---

Colonel Caldwell was exasperated. Nothing had turned up, not even any tracks. His group had met back up with the other groups about a half hour prior and decided to go back for the night. They'd try again tomorrow, but the general consensus was that the lizards had gotten away.

"It doesn't look as if there's anyone up there to let us back in…" pointed out a squirrel. Caldwell shrugged.

"I'm sure that they'll be back up soon. They wouldn't leave us out here," announced the hare, dejectedly.

"Lookit! It izz great warriorz, they haz returned!" exclaimed a mocking voice from high above. Caldwell gritted his teeth in fury; he didn't have to look up to recognize who it was: the lizard that had killed Sedgewick.

"Die, you worthless scum!!" screamed Maudy, who hurtled his spear up at the lizard on the top of the wall. Marclaw sidestepped it masterfully, laughing. Maudy nearly exploded in rage.

"Lookit me, I took over big red fort! Hahaha!" Marclaw shouted down. His four companions all seemed to materialize behind him, with uneasy expressions on their faces.

"Give me another spear! I'll hit him this time!!" Maudy shouted as Gavin attempted to restrain him. Marclaw continued to laugh.

"Hahaha! I am very hungry now, yez! Mebbe I eat the weak creaturez you left for uz! Hahaha!"

This time, nearly everybeast down below exploded in rage, shouting all kinds of threats up to Marclaw, who merely laughed at all of them.

Limptail had slunk back a little, afraid that more things would be thrown, and that perhaps they may hit him. Then, he saw something that captured his interest, far behind the woodlanders below.

He pushed in front of Marclaw, who abruptly stopped laughing. Then he screamed, at the top of his lungs, "Conrad!!! Wemys!!! Haaaaaalp meeeeeeee!!! They have me—" That was all he was able to say, before Marclaw slashed him across the face with his empty claw, causing the ferret to recoil in pain.

Down below, the fox Conrad, as well as Wemys and Swiss, had just walked out of the forest. Conrad hadn't wanted to come. Limptail had never done anything particularly useful for the group, and going near Redwall was an unnecessary risk. However, Wemys had talked him in to it, somehow. But now, despite anything Wemys had said, the wily fox wanted to bolt that very instant. Between him and the abbey was a group of furious, armed Redwallers.

"Great," Conrad spat, "Just great. I'm leavin', Wemys."

"Wait, Conrad," Wemys interjected, "I don't think they're mad at us."

"So what?" exclaimed the fox, "They're mad. They don't like foxes, or stoats, and I'm pretty sure they don't like whatever Swiss is. It's only a matter of time afore they decide to start bein' angry at us. Right now, I personally feel that Limptail is pretty safe, what with him being all up on the wall. So, we're going to leave now, and maybe we'll come back later. Maybe."

"Conrad, they haven't even noticed us," Wemys pointed out, annoyed at his leader's rashness, "Right now, it looks like they're too busy throwin' things up at the top of the wall."

Conrad looked. Indeed, the group stuck outside of Redwall had begun to throw anything they could at Marclaw and the lizards- Spears, stones, anything. Colonel Caldwell simply stood there, transfixed to the spot, shaking his sword up in the air.

Marclaw and his group had long since departed from the top of the wall. Darkscale had been hit in the arm with a stone, Chopleg had narrowly missed being hit by a javelin, and Limptail of course had three long gashes running diagonally across his face, but none of them were seriously injured.

After a while, the stones and spears ceased to be thrown. Not because the throwers had realized that they could no longer hit Marclaw, but because there was nothing left on the ground to throw.

Looking around for more things they could hurl at Marclaw, they finally noticed Conrad and the other two. "Great," Conrad repeated, "Now they've seen us. Now we're in big trouble. Wemys, I'm leavin' now, and I suggest you do too. Come on, Swiss."

"Hey, you vermin!" shouted an otter, "What're you doing here?"

"We're leaving," Conrad muttered under his breath as he turned around.

"We're tryin' to rescue one of our own, the ferret," Wemys yelled back. Conrad hastened his departure.

"Just ignore that lot," Caldwell ordered, "We have much bigger problems." He pointed back to the top of the wall. Marclaw hadn't shown his ugly face again, but it was only a matter of time before he did, just to get the last laugh.

The group of woodlanders did as Caldwell asked, remembering the predicament at hand. Wemys called back at Conrad, "See? They don't care 'bout us."

Conrad's voice echoed out of the forest, "They only don't care 'bout us _now_, when we aren't near them. What do you plan on doing? Waltzin' up there and saying 'hello'? I know Limptail's your friend and all, Wemys, but I'd have expected you to get over things like that pretty quickly. You weren't this determined when your brother left."

Swiss frowned at the mention of Wemys' brother. He had always been really mean, and really angry, and Swiss was sort of glad that he had left.

Wemys sighed. "I couldn't do nothin' to stop my brother. He left 'cuz he hated us all, me included. I wasn't gonna stop him. There wasn't nothing I could do."

Conrad's voice sounded exasperated. "There isn't nothing you can do now! How do you plan on gettin' into Redwall? How do you plan on fightin' off an army of lizards? It ain't possible!"

"I don't hafta do anything," Wemys replied, "All I hafta do is wait for those woodlanders to find a way in an' fight off the lizards. Then we just grab Limptail and leave. It'll be simple."

Conrad materialized out of the forest. "Fine, then. If that's all you're gonna do, then you don't need me, do you? If not, then I'm gonna leave, cuz I left Weltsnout in charge, an' you both know how he handles power."

Wemys and Swiss exchanged glances. Yes, they knew very well how Weltsnout handled power, and he didn't handle it very well. "Whatever, then," Wemys sighed, finally giving in to his leader.

Conrad smiled victoriously, and then left very quickly. Wemys and Swiss slunk behind the bushes, watching the woodlanders from afar as they began to discuss the problem they had just found themselves in.


	8. The Army

**Author's Note: Warrior, I'm glad you noticed that, because I did it intentionally. It's kind of like Shakespeare's Romeo & Juliet in the sense that the first half is essentially a light-hearted comedy, and then transitions into a tragedy. Although I wouldn't consider this fic a tragedy, you get the point.**

**Also, I just finished writing Chapter 26 of this story, the final chapter of Part II. By the way, Part I (this part) and Part II are very different and only loosely connected, so you may have difficulty transitioning between the two after Chapter 13 (where Part I ends). The two come together in Part III, however.**

**And, lastly, I've noticed a bizarre pattern. For Chapter 1, I had 2 reviews. For Chapter 2, I had 1 review. For Chapter 3, I had 2 reviews. For Chapter 4, I had 1 review. And so on, and so on. This pattern hasn't been broken yet. So, if I only get one review for this chapter, it'll be pretty weird.**

**Now, enough of all my rambling. Enjoy the chapter, it's got King Kirrent making semi-intelligent decisions in it!**

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VIII: The Army

One by one, the peaceful creatures that had been sleeping soundly in their beds in Redwall Abbey woke up, got dressed, and walked outside to meet the new day.

All they met, however, was General Davian.

Davian had given up on trying to find the dormitories shortly after he opened a door and a large broom fell right on his face. So, he simply stormed outside and formulated a new plan, which was that he'd wait in front of the door for the Redwallers to come out.

Marclaw had reported to him, and told him everything that had happened. Davian found it satisfactory. Now the hares were trapped outside, with them safely inside. All that was left to do was to make sure there weren't any creatures in there that could potentially let the hares in, much like how he had let Marclaw and the rest in. So, he stood at one door, and Marclaw stood at another, and the rest all stood at some other door somewhere, with Darkscale patrolling the top of the wall in case something happened.

Davian yawned. He hadn't gotten any sleep all night. Luckily, though, he believed that most of the Redwallers had been accosted. It was now nearing midday, and only a few odd creatures had bumbled out in the last hour.

The door swung open, and Davian stood alert. A fat mole stepped out. Davian pointed the sword right in the mole's belly.

"Do az I zay or die, yez," Davian snarled. He then led the frightened, sniveling mole over to another building with only one door, which he shoved him into. The mole fell down a small set of stairs and bowled over a few other prisoners that had been standing directly at the bottom of them.

Before Davian could close the door, he was bombarded by a loud set of "You evil fiend!"s, "Wait till I get my paws on you!"s, and "You'll never get away with this!"s. Davian paid them no heed, and shut the door.

"I think that all of 'em," Davian said to Greenwart, who was guarding the door, "Marclaw sayz nothing haz come out of door for half hour, yez."

Greenwart made no reply, and Davian walked back to his position. From where he stood, the general could hear Darkscale at the top of the wall, talking to the woodlanders below him.

"I juzt do what Davian tellz me to," Darkscale was saying. From below, the hare colonel shouted something Davian couldn't quite make out. Darkscale shouted back, "No, that wuzn't Davian, that wuz Marclaw."

Davian would have listened more, but the door opened again. Davian held out his sword, but was surprised to see Marclaw walk out.

"I find where they zleep," Marclaw reported, lavishly waving his new sword so that Davian would notice. The general was getting very annoyed with Marclaw's new weapon. Marclaw seemed to be thinking that he was in charge as of late, and Davian had no doubt it was because of that sword. It was as if it had emboldened him, even more than before.

Marclaw continued, "It wuz very zimple, firzt door on left." Marclaw pointed at the door in question with his new sword, and speaking as if Davian had been an idiot not to notice that the correct door had been right in front of him the whole time. "I looked, but it zeemz we get all of 'em."

Davian was relieved. "Good, I get my zleep now." That was all he said before he meandered to the door that Marclaw had just been pointing at and vanished through it. Marclaw hadn't had any sleep all night either, but he wasn't tired, not one bit. No, he would just take this opportunity to flaunt his strength without Davian having to notice.

---

King Kirrent was exhausted after marching so far, and his head still hurt, but the lizard Zalazz assured him that it wasn't very far now. King Kirrent hoped that was so. He hadn't even had a tent to sleep in during the march, and his temper had been steadily rising. If he showed up at the red fort and Davian was dead or something, he would probably just explode right then and there.

"Thiz izz it!" Zalazz exclaimed, pointing out of the forest. Kirrent hurried up, lifting the bottom of his long robe so he wouldn't trip. If Davian was dead, if the "fort" was just a couple of stones in the mud…

King Kirrent saw the red fort. And it definitely wasn't just a couple of stones in the ground. King Kirrent was awe-inspired at what General Davian and the lizards had not had the time to be awe-inspired at when they first saw the spectacle a few days ago. This red fort was the grandest thing King Kirrent had ever seen in his life, and he had seen a lot of grand things, most of which he had sacked and looted.

His initial fear was quelled as well, as he saw a solitary lizard up on the top of the wall. King Kirrent didn't know exactly if the fact that there was only one was a good thing or a bad thing, but the fact that any lizard was there had to be good.

Then King Kirrent saw the small army down below, perhaps twenty creatures in all. And amongst them, standing prominently in the center, was the same hare that had said all those bad things about him. The rat smiled devilishly. Now it was King Kirrent that had the upper hand! Still… He didn't want to just engage the enemy in a charge. He'd be able to overpower them with his numbers, he was sure of that, but he didn't want to have any more losses than he had already concurred.

An idea hit him. He turned to Kalzmar and Corzon, who were just behind him. He picked up a broken branch that was on the ground and drew his cutlass, which was usually securely hidden in his robe.

"Watch what I do, very carefully," he instructed. His two generals watched. King Kirrent took the end of the stick and began to sharpen it with his cutlass. He sharpened for about three or four minutes, until the stick was decently sharp, sharp enough to hurt badly if thrown hard enough.

"Didja see that?" King Kirrent asked. The two generals nodded. Of course, that wasn't good enough. "Then you try."

Kalzmar and Corzon searched a few seconds for another like-sized branch. Once they had both found one, they began to sharpen them. Eventually, the branches looked rather mangled and disfigured, but they had sharp ends on them.

"Good. Now, I need a stick like that for every lizard here. I got an idea."

---

Caldwell paced around uneasily. He had been thinking all day for a way to get into Redwall. He found himself wondering what all the warlords who had tried to take over Redwall had done. Ropes, towers, tunnels… None of it could be done with such limited resources. What he really needed to do was to go back to Salamandastron and bring back the Long Patrol in full force, along with Lord Oxpaw. Then those lizards would be begging for mercy.

"Hey, if it isn't that one blinking king chap!" exclaimed Gavin. Caldwell looked up. King Kirrent had just appeared out of the forest.

"Huh, I would've figured he'd be inside," Caldwell said, mostly to himself, "What's he doing out here alone?"

It was then that Caldwell realized that King Kirrent wasn't alone. An army of lizards drudged out of the forest behind him, all of them carrying long, sharpened sticks. From high above on the wall, Darkscale shouted, "Lookit! King Kirrent! We took over red fort for you!"

King Kirrent marched forward with his army, but stopped a decent distance away from the woodlanders. Paying Darkscale no heed (he actually didn't even hear him), he yelled, "Ha! Look who's in trouble now, Colonel!" He emphasized the last word in a mocking tone.

"You may outnumber us, but we're all trained and experienced fighters, ten times better than your lot!" Caldwell fibbed. Most of the Redwallers with him were armed with kitchen knives.

King Kirrent laughed. "I'll cut right to the point, longears! Kalzmar!"

Kalzmar nodded, and then shouted, "Sticks! Throw them… now!!"

Immediately, a little over fifty sticks were sent flying through the air and the woodlanders. Caldwell suddenly realized that they were in big trouble. Their backs were to the wall, there was nowhere to run. The lizards had abysmal aim, but there were just so many sharpened sticks in the air that casualties would be immense.

Caldwell dove to the side. A stick pierced his footpaw, going right through. The lizards were strong, and they made up for their lack of aim with their brute force. Another stick almost took off Caldwell's ear.

The last of the sticks fell to the ground. Caldwell got up, ripping the stick in his footpaw out painfully and heaving it back at King Kirrent's army. It hit a lizard dead-on.

King Kirrent merely laughed some more. Caldwell looked around; they had been slaughtered. Many were dead, many were injured. The survivors were all moaning pitifully.

"Colonel, are you all right?" shouted Gavin, who had managed to get out of the way of the sticks in time, along with Maudy.

"I'm fine. It's the rest you ought to be worried about!" Caldwell shouted. Dismally, he surveyed the carnage. The two other hares he had brought with him were both dead. Some Redwallers had been hit by so many spears that they looked like pincushions. There were perhaps five uninjured creatures, including Gavin and Maudy.

King Kirrent was laughing, savoring his victory. Now nothing stood in his way!

Caldwell gritted his teeth. "Gavin, Maudy, I need you two to get back to Salamandastron."

"No way, sah!" Maudy exclaimed, "I'm not leaving you here for those lizards!"

"We can't just let Redwall be captured," Gavin said dejectedly.

"It's already been captured," Caldwell winced, "I messed up. I should have brought more hares, just like you said. Then maybe this wouldn't have happened. But it's too late now. If we're all killed, it could be a long time before Lord Oxpaw figures out what happened. Who knows what this bally rat will have done by then. I need you to go."

"We can't!" Maudy insisted.

"It's an order," Caldwell snapped, "Don't disobey the chain of command."

Maudy and Gavin looked at each other, then at Redwall, then at the still-laughing King Kirrent. "Yes, sah," they replied in unison. Then they dashed off.

Kalzmar interrupted King Kirrent's laughing. "Your Eckzellenzy," she announced, "Two longearz are running away."

King Kirrent frowned. They may go back to their badger leader. That would not be good. The king turned to Corzon. Corzon was a moron, but he was the best hunter in the army. "Corzon, kill those two hares."

"Yez, Your Eckzellenzy!" Corzon shouted. He dashed off.

King Kirrent considered what he had just done. He pointed at a group of five lizards. "You five, follow him, in case he does somethin' stupid." The five lizards likewise ran off, eager to do their king's bidding.

Colonel Caldwell was slowly limping his way at King Kirrent, his sword drawn. He wasn't going to go down without a fight. The rat noticed Caldwell before he was even halfway there, however.

"Kalzmar," said the king, "Stop that hare. I want him alive, he has to pay for his insults."

Kalzmar nodded. Grabbing her spear, she slowly approached Caldwell. As soon as she got close enough, the hare leapt forward unexpectedly with his sword. Kalzmar rolled to the side swiftly. Caldwell attempted to turn, but Kalzmar was too quick. She slammed the butt of her spear into the back of Caldwell's skull. The colonel slumped over, unconscious.

King Kirrent walked up. "Very good, Kalzmar. Now, let's see if we can get that lizard up there to open the doors for us. Oh, an' drag that hare with us. I wanna talk to him when he comes round."

In the distance, hidden behind bushes and trees, Wemys turned to Swiss. "Things just got a bit complicated," he said grimly.


	9. The Court II

**Author's Note: Hooray, we broke the review pattern:)**

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IX: The Court (II)

The court of King Kirrent was the grandest building he had ever seen. The army of King Kirrent was an army that had conquered what so many larger, better trained armies had been unable to conquer. King Kirrent himself strutted proudly, admiring his new home.

He had gotten Darkscale to tell him how they had managed to conquer it, but the story had been mostly unintelligible and King Kirrent found that he didn't really care either way.

General Davian was still sleeping, and King Kirrent decided to let him sleep. The lizard had done amazingly. The rat decided that it was he, not Kalzmar, that was his most trusted general.

He was walking around, taking in everything about his new castle, when suddenly, and unfamiliar voice said from behind him, "Y-you aren't a lizard! Please, you gotta help me!"

King Kirrent wheeled around. In front of him was a ferret, with three long diagonal lines down his face. "Who are you?" the king demanded.

"M-my name is Limptail. The lizards, they captured me, and they won't let me leave. I hafta get out of here!" the ferret exclaimed in a hushed whisper.

King Kirrent laughed. A ferret! Finally, his dream of having a real horde was beginning to come true, as well. Not even noticing what Limptail had said, he replied, "Limptail, eh? How about this? How about you be a general in my army?"

Limptail was caught completely off-guard. "Um…"

"Whaddya mean, um? This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance! Have you ever been a general before?" King Kirrent smiled, not maliciously, but almost grandfatherly. Limptail shivered a bit.

"N-no, I've never been a general…" The ferret was deciding that this rat was crazier than the lizards. But at least the rat seemed to like him, enough to make him a general the first time they met…

"Good! Then you'll be one now! General Limptail!" King Kirrent continued to smile. Now his army was actually starting to be a real army, not just these stupid lizards! Once the stories of King Kirrent the Great spread around, he was sure rats, weasels, stoats, ferrets, and foxes of all shapes and sizes would line up at his door!

"Um… O-okay," Limptail stammered. Then, without warning, King Kirrent turned and marched off.

Limptail wheeled around, wanting to get away from all the madbeasts he was trapped with. Unfortunately, he simply came face-to-face with Marclaw, who was not smiling, but frowning, which was even worse.

"What he say?!" Marclaw demanded, shaking Limptail, "What he say?!"

"H-he said that I'm a general now!" Limptail whimpered, "A-and I order you to stop shakin' me this instant!"

Surprisingly, it worked. Marclaw released the ferret, who scampered off in fright. The lizard was suddenly very, very angry. Marclaw had been trying to impress King Kirrent, showing off his blade with no subtlety at all. He had gotten a taste of command when he had to go save Davian, and he liked it. Of course, King Kirrent hadn't even noticed him, instead admiring his new castle. That had made Marclaw angry enough. All the lizards were impressed by his sword! How could King Kirrent be so immune? And then, as if to add insult to injury, he had made that stupid ferret a general!

Marclaw stormed off. Already, the beginning workings of a plan were forming in his mind…

---

It came to King Kirrent's attention that he had prisoners when he walked past Greenwart and asked her what was behind the door she was guarding. Darkscale hadn't told him about any prisoners (actually, he had, King Kirrent just hadn't been able to understand him), so King Kirrent was naturally curious.

"Ehh… I be careful, they very mad," Greenwart told him when he ordered her to open the door.

King Kirrent drew his cutlass. He wasn't scared of a bunch of prisoners.

Greenwart opened the door. King Kirrent walked into a poorly lit room, where a large amount assorted woodlanders were crammed in together. King Kirrent stood in the doorway, with the sunlight pouring in behind him.

The Redwallers strained their eyes, almost blinded by the bright light. The door hadn't been opened all day, and they were worried that the lizards had forgotten about them. Many were hungry and thirsty.

"Hello, my prisoners!" King Kirrent exclaimed, overly cheery. Behind him, Greenwart slunk out of view.

"Who are you?!"

"Let us out of here!!"

"I'm hungry!"

"Yes, yes, yes," King Kirrent announced, "I am King Kirrent the Great, slayer of thousands, and conqueror of this great fort! Bow to me, now!"

The prisoners all stared at him dumbly. One shouted, "King Kirrent the Blowhard is more like it!"

King Kirrent was embarrassed as the prisoners all began to laugh at him. "Fine, then! I was gonna be merciful, give ya food and water, but it appears that ya still need a bit of straightening out. Ya get nothin' for the rest of the day! Maybe tomorrow we can try this again. Hahaha!" The king turned and was bombarded by the same insults and threats that General Davian had been bombarded with. The door shut, and Greenwart latched it again.

The rat continued his stroll through his castle, completely unperturbed by his prisoners. He had it all now!

Kalzmar approached him. "King Kirrent, the longearz izz waking up."

King Kirrent smiled devilishly.

---

Colonel Caldwell woke up, his head throbbing. He was bound to a chair at a table in a small room, with only one door. He was alone, and if he had had more time, he might had been able to wriggle free of his binds- they weren't tied very well.

However, almost as soon as he awoke, King Kirrent burst in, followed by Kalzmar. The rat was laughing fiendishly. Caldwell rolled his eyes.

"Look what we have here, Kalzmar!" King Kirrent exclaimed, a wild fascination in his eye, "It's that mean hare that insulted us an' killed our friends!"

"Your bunch of newts attacked me first, you bally nincompoop!" Caldwell shot. King Kirrent laughed some more.

"I'm a bally nincompoop! Hahaha! Yet I'm the one who's got the giant castle, aren't I? And you… Why, you're tied to that chair there!" King Kirrent stopped laughing and merely smiled. Kalzmar simultaneously frowned behind him.

"How about you let me out of these bonds, and we'll see who'd win in a fight?" Caldwell demanded angrily.

"How about… no?" King Kirrent drew his cutlass and slashed across Caldwell's face, leaving a long bloody gash similar to the ones on Limptail. Caldwell recoiled in pain. "Hahaha! I'll just leave ya here to think about that. I'll be back tomorrow. I'm gonna draw this out as long as possible! You'll be begging for death by the time I'm done with you!"

"Not a chance!" Caldwell shouted through the pain.

"You'll be singin' a different tune in a few days, I'm sure of it. Kalzmar! You are to guard this hare. If he does anything suspicious, stop him! But don't kill him. This is much too fun for it to end so quickly!" King Kirrent laughed again, then departed. Kalzmar and Caldwell stared at each other from the opposite ends of the room.

Kalzmar was still frowning. "Why do I have to guard the longearz?" she grumbled to herself, "I'm a general! I don't have to do boring jobz like theeze!"

Caldwell said nothing. Kalzmar, like Marclaw, was beginning to get a little angry. General Davian only had to sleep all day, the lazy lizard! Kalzmar wanted to sleep, too. Kalzmar wanted to be able to enjoy the amazing castle, much like how King Kirrent was doing.

The door opened again. Kalzmar expected it to be King Kirrent, saying "I'm sorry, you can go to sleep now, I'll just have some other lizard guard the hare," but it was not. Instead, Marclaw stormed in, clenching his sword tightly.

"That sword isn't yours," Caldwell said. Marclaw gave him an icy glare, but said nothing. He had business with Kalzmar.

Kalzmar knew Marclaw fairly well. He had always wanted to be a general, and had grumbled about it quite a bit to Kalzmar, but had never done anything about it.

"Kalzmar. King Kirrent made stupid ferret thing a general! Not me! Not with my zword! It makez me angry!" Marclaw made an angry face, as if trying to emphasize his point.

"Yeah, he makez me guard longearz, while Davian zleepz all day. It not fair," Kalzmar sighed. In the background, Caldwell groaned. He didn't want to hear the whines of a few disgruntled lizards.

"I know," Marclaw sympathized, "I wuz liztening from behind the door, yez."

"There izz nothing we can do about it, though. You zhould leave now," Kalzmar yawned. She also didn't really feel like hearing Marclaw grumble.

"There izz zomething we can do, though," Marclaw suddenly smiled his toothy smile, "We can kill King Kirrent!"

There was an uneasy silence. Marclaw smiled. Kalzmar looked absolutely aghast. Caldwell was suddenly interested.

"K-kill King Kirrent?!" Kalzmar gasped, "But… But… But… We can't!"

"Why not?" Marclaw hissed, "I can kill anything with new zword, anything!"

Kalzmar said nothing. She was afraid. She was afraid that King Kirrent would kill them, she was afraid that they'd fall apart without King Kirrent, and she was most of all afraid of Marclaw. He had a mad glint in his eye, and his smile seemed… omniscient. It was very frightening. Still… What did King Kirrent think he was doing, forcing her to guard the hare while Davian slept? And what had happened when the hares first showed up in the swamp? King Kirrent had run, and sacrificed most of his army in order to do so! But… Killing King Kirrent… it just didn't sit well.

"We kill King Kirrent… And then we in charge!" Marclaw persuaded. He sounded foggy and distant to Kalzmar, but she heard him all the same. Yes, they would be in charge… Then Davian could guard the hare while she slept all day… In fact, they wouldn't even need to guard the hare! They could just kill him, along with all the other prisoners! Still, it just didn't seem feasible.

"I… I will think about it, yez," Kalzmar said, "Give me a few dayz."

Marclaw smiled. "Yez, a few dayz. I give time." Then, he left.

Kalzmar stood there, staring at nothing. She didn't even acknowledge Caldwell's presence.

The hare pondered what to do. An insubordination could be both good and bad. If a lizard was in charge, it was more likely that they'd mess up, make a mistake. However, as Marclaw had said, they would also slaughter the prisoners. The colonel couldn't let that happen. He hated to help out that lowlife rat, but the next time the king walked in, Caldwell would have to tell him all about what Marclaw and Kalzmar were planning behind his back.


	10. The Dash

X: The Dash

Maudy and Gavin had been running for what seemed an eternity. By now, they were aware that Corzon was following them, but that wasn't why they ran so fast; both were confident they could defeat the lizard in a fight. They ran because the fate of every Redwaller rested squarely on their shoulder, and they had no intention of dropping the ball here. Not after they had left Colonel Caldwell behind.

King Kirrent had actually made a good choice when choosing Corzon to handle such an important task. Only his stupidest general had the ample strength and endurance to not be completely lost by the hares. The other five lizards King Kirrent had sent had all collapsed somewhere along the line, unable to go any farther. But not Corzon. This was his big chance to get back in the king's good graces, and he had no intention of dropping the ball here. Not after the king had decided to rely so heavily on him.

All three of them ran almost all day, rarely stopping. The marathon's toll could be seen on the two hares, but their determination kept them going, even if their pace dropped and their lungs felt ready to explode. Corzon, however, showed no signs of stopping. There had been a very good reason why King Kirrent had been able to overlook the lizard's total idiocy when promoting him to the status of general, and this was it.

Then, after a long time of extremely exhausting dashing, Salamandastron loomed in the distance. The two hares stopped running. "We… made… it…" gasped Maudy in a barely audible whisper.

Gavin glanced behind him. "Maudy… the… lizard…" The two hares turned. Corzon was barreling at them at an insane speed. Maudy and Gavin began running as well, as fast as they possibly could.

Corzon, however, was not about to let his prey escape, not after he had run all this way. He drew his sword and heaved it forward. The curved blade soared through the air like some sort of bizarre death instrument. It hit Gavin in the side of the leg, forcing him to the ground. Maudy skidded to a halt and readied his spear. He had left behind Colonel Caldwell, but he wasn't going to leave behind Gavin.

"Come… on… scalebrain!" Maudy shouted. Corzon charged forward, screaming some sort of war cry. Maudy lunged forward with his spear, aiming to pierce Corzon right through the heart.

Instead, he missed.

Maudy didn't even realize what had happened before the general slammed into him. Both of them toppled to the ground in a heap. Maudy's spear left his paw, flying too far away to reach. Corzon, however, didn't need a weapon. He brought his claw down on the hare, once, twice. The claw rose up again. Maudy figured that this was the end; he had failed. A wave of sorrow swept over him.

Suddenly, Corzon slumped over, unconscious. Maudy found himself surrounded by a group of hares, one of which had beaten Corzon in the back of the head with a spear butt. Maudy recognized the hare as Lieutenant Tabbins, a respected officer.

"Maudy? Gavin?" exclaimed Tabbins, glancing over the pair's numerous injuries, "It's about time! We thought you fell off the face of the blinking earth! Where's Caldwell and the rest?"

Maudy found he could not speak. Instead, Gavin spoke for him, choosing key words that could convey the point across the most easily. "Redwall… danger… help… lizards…" Then he passed out. Tabbins frowned.

"Wot was that? I didn't quite understand," he said. Neither Gavin nor Maudy made any reply. "It doesn't look like these two will be fit to speak for a while… It's like they ran the whole way here from Redwall! We need some medical assistance, wot! And we need to know what just bally happened!"

"Ask the lizard," another hare suggested.

"Ah, that scaly devil will be out for a while, hard as I hit him. Clements! Go get Lord Oxpaw, let's get this sorted out."

The hare named Clements dashed off. Tabbins wore a puzzled expression on his face and scratched his head in confusion. Lizards, Redwall, and a lot of running… None of it made any sense. Tabbins hoped that the lizard would hold some answers.

---

Corzon's eyes snapped open. Almost as soon as they did, he was grabbed by some giant paw and lifted up. A deep, bull voice was yelling at him, but his mind was still in a fog, and he couldn't understand what was being said. There was a pause, then the voice started up again, and then the giant paw started shaking Corzon like a rag doll.

The lizard general's eyes suddenly went into focus. Corzon nearly panicked; he was being shaken by some sort of giant furry monster. "What are you?! What going on?!" he exclaimed in fright.

The large bull voice began to make sounds that didn't sound like a jumbled mess as Corzon became more aware of his surroundings. "I am asking you the same question," growled the monster.

Corzon looked around. The monster was backed by a huge amount of hares. Corzon moaned. "I izz Corzon!" he exclaimed.

The monster spoke again, "And I am Oxpaw, Badger Lord of Salamandastron! Now, tell me, why were you chasing those two hares?"

Corzon suddenly remembered everything that had happened, as if a switch had been flipped in some dark cavern of his brain. "Yez, the longearz! I wuz after them cuz King Kirrent ordered it!"

The badger sighed. This King Kirrent character had been giving them a lot of trouble lately. More trouble than _real _warlords, like the weasel Regner the Magnificent. Luckily, King Kirrent the Great was a lot easier to deal with than Regner's expansive horde.

"Where is King Kirrent right now?" Oxpaw demanded. At least the lizard was being cooperative. Oxpaw was not very good at keeping alive creatures that made him angry, and he got angry at uncooperative creatures.

"He izz in red fort!" Corzon answered. There was a murmuring among the hares. Oxpaw suddenly realized that there may be a serious predicament here.

"You mean Redwall?! Kirrent captured Redwall?!" Oxpaw shook Corzon again. After he had stopped, Corzon nodded. Angrily, Oxpaw threw the lizard to the ground. Corzon scampered to his feet, stepping away from the angry badger. Oxpaw looked as if he were about to crush Corzon with his bare paws, but then desisted.

"Tie this lizard up. We may be able to use him as a bargaining chip," Oxpaw growled, "I want the complete maximum amount of Long Patrol hares ready to march in an hour. If this rat has actually captured Redwall… Then I don't know what."

---

Back at Redwall, King Kirrent opened the door to the room where Colonel Caldwell was being kept captive. Kalzmar nervously shuffled away from him, but King Kirrent paid the odd action no mind. He had spent the whole day devising was he could torture the hare, and he had a batch of good ideas.

"Hello there, Colonel," the rat smiled.

"Hello there, King Kirrent," Caldwell said, overly cheery, "I know something you may find interesting."

"Oh?" King Kirrent's smile did not falter in the least, "And what would that be, Colonel?"

"Your general there, Kalz-whatever, and her friend Mar-something are plotting to kill you behind your back, you bally rat!" Caldwell shouted. Instantly, an uneasy silence enveloped the room. Kalzmar wanted to vanish right then and there, and she slowly began shuffling towards the door. She had completely forgotten about Caldwell, and even if she hadn't, she wouldn't have expected him to say anything. Hadn't King Kirrent been torturing him for the past day or so?

King Kirrent drew his cutlass. Kalzmar suddenly froze in terror. The rat king raised the blade. Kalzmar knew that was it, that King Kirrent would finish her then and there. There was a flash of metal as the cutlass was swung down rapidly. Colonel Caldwell shouted out in pain as the lifeless bundle of flesh that had been his paw flopped to the ground in a splatter of blood.

"Telling me lies, eh?" King Kirrent shouted, right in Caldwell's face, "You're just trying to make me crazy! Don't think I don't know what you're up to, yes! I refuse to believe that Kalzmar, my second most trusted general, would turn on me! I don't know who this Marclaw is, but I know Kalzmar would _never _do something like that. Right?"

Kalzmar nodded nervously. She was still wondering why it had not been her that had been stricken with the king's sword. Oh, why did Marclaw have to start this whole— Wait. Did King Kirrent just say that she was his _second _most trusted general?

King Kirrent was satisfied by the nod. It wasn't that he refused to believe that Kalzmar was plotting to assassinate him, it was that he didn't want to believe. He turned back to the screaming Caldwell. "Hurts, don't it?" sneered the rat.

King Kirrent held out his blade and wiped the blood off on Caldwell's face, leaving a red smear. "Mebbe I'll just take the other paw, yes!" he cackled, "Yes, the other paw… Hahaha!"

"You… bally rat…" Caldwell half-spoke, half-screamed in some bizarre display of pain, "You… need to stop… hanging around… these lizards… You're beginning to… sound like one!"

King Kirrent looked as if he were about to say something. He opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, and closed it a second time. Caldwell felt he could make the perfect comment about the rat looking like a fish, but his last jeer had been too painful for him to try to speak again.

Neither Caldwell nor Kalzmar realized the magnitude of the hare's insult. King Kirrent had been harboring hate for the lizards for the longest time, wanting a real horde, wanting to be rid of the idiocy and incompetence. The only reason General Davian had been able to capture the red fort had been because Limptail did most of the work, the rat had finally deduced after a lot of thinking. Now that King Kirrent had everything he wanted (almost), he had been able to do a lot of thinking. He had remembered Corzon, who burned down a village just for a few lousy trinkets, and Davian, who had slaughtered almost forty lizards against the blade of a giant badger, and Kalzmar, who had ordered all the lizards back at the swamp to attack the hare that sat in front of him now. Yes, Kalzmar had done that! It hadn't been him! It couldn't have been him.

King Kirrent hated them all, but he hated that disgusting hare in front of him even more. The hare had… had… had _compared _him to those scaly lumps that he commanded! King Kirrent was absolutely, positively furious right now, and when King Kirrent got mad, King Kirrent got irrational.

"Kalzmar!" King Kirrent finally shouted, angrily, "I… have to leave now! You heard the lies this longears, er, this hare, told you, yes?! I mean no! No! Gaah!!" The rat pushed his general aside and opened the door. "Just… Just torture him yerself! He… he called me a lizard! How?! How could he even _think _I'm _anything _like _you_?!" the rat screamed, shooting a disgusting look neither at Caldwell nor Kalzmar but instead at someplace in between.

"A-are you okay?" Kalzmar stammered. King Kirrent seemed to have lost his head. It was almost as scary as when she had thought he was going to kill her. But still… the hate inside Kalzmar grew. He was insulting her rank, insulting her pride, and now insulting her race.

"Yes!" King Kirrent roared, like some sort of defunctive blaze, "I am _not _a lizard!! I hate you _stupid _hares and I hate you _stupid _lizards!!" The rat slammed the door shut and stormed off.

Kalzmar looked over at Caldwell, who was leaned over the table in a small puddle of blood. She poked him with her spear, wondering if the hare was dead. Caldwell stirred a little, and the lizard retracted the lance swiftly.

* * *

**Author's Note: Okay, I've always considered this chapter to be a tad abrupt and a little unrealistic. But it was either make the chapter like that or make two to three chapters of filler, and I did NOT want to do that, so I chose the former choice.**

**By the way, there are only three chapters left in Part 1, until we go to Part 2, which has an almost completely new cast of characters and a completely new plot (Here's a fun little hint: one of the new main characters in Part 2 is mentioned in this chapter...).**


	11. The Normal Day

**Sorry about the long-ish wait there, but I was stranded, for lack of a better word.**

**Warrior: That's actually the part I was talking about as being unrealistic. I'm perfectly fine with the insanity. In fact, insanity amongst warlords (and I guess even semi-warlords) is almost the norm. I knew there were problems with the time, so I kinda made it a bit ambiguous as to how long it actually took them. I never say it happened in one day, did I? Errr... I hope not, or I'll look kinda dumb right about now. Anywho, it was either get them there in one chapter or throw in one or two filler chapters that would just muck everything up. I chose the option that benefitted the story more.**

**This isn't a long chapter, but hopefully you'll find it interesting, especially at the end. Also, take careful note of the chapter title. Perhaps compare it to the other chapter titles.**

* * *

XI: The Normal Day

Kalzmar might not have been so angry at King Kirrent if she had known that Davian also had a rather lousy task to perform: he had to feed the prisoners.

King Kirrent had retreated into the room he had picked out for himself, and had rarely left it since then. And even then, he attempted to avoid the lizards as much as possible. However, he had managed to give Davian his new orders, and made them so specific that he actually told Davian exactly how much food to give them.

"An apple or two, and a couple of nuts," the king had whispered to his general hastily. He had devised a new kind of torture just prior to his meeting with Caldwell in which he would allow the prisoners food, but only so much that perhaps one or two could adequately be fed. Earlier, he would have enjoyed watching the starving prisoners fight over the food voraciously, but now he had no interest for it. Despite that, he still planned to follow through with the torture.

So, Davian had found the food King Kirrent instructed him to bring, and he brought it to the prisoners. The first thing they said when he laid down the food on the floor was, "That isn't nearly enough!"

Davian looked at them skeptically, then down at the food. They were right; it wasn't enough. The lizard frowned.

"What you want, then?" he grumbled. King Kirrent must have made an error in his judgment, the lizard reasoned. Of course, that meant that what had appeared to be a quick and easy task would blossom into something that could take an hour or so.

"We need more. Enough for all of us," replied the prisoners. So, Davian had marched back to the kitchen, and slowly but steadily brought back enough food for all of them. King Kirrent would have moaned in agony if he had seen his plans once again being thwarted by the stupidity of his soldiers.

Then Davian had to bring water to the prisoners. King Kirrent had instructed him to bring one full pail. Davian didn't even have to hear the prisoners' complaints to know that _that _wouldn't be enough, either. So, thoroughly annoyed, he had gone back and forth, filling up pails and bringing them to the prisoners.

Thusly, the prisoners had all received full, if slightly meager, meals. By the time he had finished delivering those meals, Davian was hungry himself. He decided to go out into the woods to hunt.

When he reached the gate, he found the ferret arguing with Darkscale, who was guarding the door.

"As a general of this army, I order you to let me out," Limptail announced. Darkscale thought for a moment, and then shook his head.

"No, you not general. King Kirrent not zay you general," Darkscale pointed out matter-of-factly.

"Well, then I'll just hafta tell King Kirrent that there's a lizard who won't follow a general's orders!" shouted the ferret.

"Wait!" Darkscale suddenly exclaimed, not wanting to get in trouble with King Kirrent, "Mebbe you are general. Mebbe I let you out, yez?"

Limptail smiled as Darkscale hastily opened the door. The ferret ecstatically leapt towards the exit, so very close to freedom. He was in mid-jump when a claw grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back. Limptail fell on his back, hitting the ground with an audible thump. The ferret looked up and found himself staring directly into the toothy smile of Marclaw.

"No, no, no, ferret thing," Marclaw grinned, "King Kirrent zed ferret thingz not able to leave, not at all! Darkzcale, cloze the door." Marclaw hoisted the ferret up as Darkscale obliged. The door slammed shut, and Limptail found a wave of sorrow sweep over him. He had been so close!

"Wait," Davian suddenly spoke, emerging from the background, "I go out, to hunt. Open the door." The door slowly opened again, with Darkscale mumbling in annoyance. He only got it halfway open when Marclaw stopped him.

"General Davian, King Kirrent haz orderz for you, too," said Marclaw, his grin widening. The door slammed shut again. "You muzt guard longearz."

Davian groaned. He had just given all those prisoners food and water, and now he had to guard the stupid hare? He had thought that it was Kalzmar's job to guard the hare. Saying nothing, he stormed off angrily.

Marclaw smiled again at Darkscale and Limptail and then he too marched off, towards the direction of King Kirrent's room. Limptail shuddered.

---

King Kirrent had managed to regain his sanity. He had just needed time to cool down. King Kirrent lost his head very easy when he was angry, and he had been _very _angry at Caldwell when the hare compared him to a lizard. But now, King Kirrent had managed to calm himself down, after a day or so.

"So what?" King Kirrent said to himself, "Who cares if some moron hare called ya a lizard? It was just a dumb insult. You overreacted. You _always _overreact, ya know that? Ya need to control your temper. One day, it's gonna be the end of you."

King Kirrent smiled. Yes, he was right. He always overreacted. If he hadn't have overreacted, he wouldn't be here, though. His overreacting was what had gotten him out of that swamp. Still, King Kirrent told himself, that was just luck. He needed to control his temper.

There was a knock at the door of his room. King Kirrent got up cautiously. "Whaddya want?" he shouted.

"Your Eckzellenzy, bad newz! You muzt let me in!" Kalzmar shouted from the other side of the door. King Kirrent became tense. Bad news? What kind of bad news? He swiftly opened the door.

As soon as the door was unlatched, it flew open, and Marclaw leapt in, his new sword in mid-swing. King Kirrent, realizing that his greatest fear was coming to life, held out one arm to defend himself. With one slice, the arm was separated from its body.

King Kirrent fell to the ground, screaming in pain. With his remaining arm, he reached for his cutlass, but Kalzmar impaled his paw with her spear.

"Kalz—" King Kirrent began. Halfway through the word, Marclaw brought his sword down again, cleaving off the rat's head.

The assassination had happened in perhaps ten seconds. Marclaw began to laugh as Kirrent's lifeless head rolled a few feet away from its body. Kalzmar retracted her spear swiftly, feeling a mix of emotions. She had just helped kill King Kirrent. She was simultaneously ashamed, aghast, and afraid.

Marclaw was nothing but smiles, though. "I izz king now, yez! King Marclaw! Hahaha! Hahaha!" He kicked Kirrent's head as if it were some sort of ball. It smacked against a stone wall, splattering blood in various directions. Then, still laughing, he walked out, ready to flaunt his new kingship.

Kalzmar stood there dumbly, contemplating what she had just done.

---

As King Kirrent was swiftly and unceremoniously murdered, General Davian and Colonel Caldwell were engaging in a staring match. The lizard had stormed in and taken a seat on the other side of the table, grumbling over his misfortune. Directly across from him was a very pale-looking Caldwell. The table was covered in blood, but Davian didn't seem to mind. Or even notice, for that matter. He simply leaned back in his chair and looked over at the hare, who looked back silently.

Caldwell had managed to stop the bleeding by putting his weight on the wound, but he had still lost a lot of blood and he didn't feel very good. Kalzmar had left a few minutes ago, and he had thought that maybe he could try to escape. Since he was now missing one of his paws, he only had one bind keeping him attached to the chair, and he had begun to wriggle his way out of it slowly and painfully. Then Davian had entered, and that was the end of that plan.

Neither blinked, and neither averted their gaze from one another. Davian's eyes held unknown cynicism; Caldwell wondered if Kalzmar had finally disobeyed King Kirrent's orders and just found a subordinate to do her job. He also wondered if the reason Kalzmar was gone was because she was busy assassinating the rat king.

Then, after a few minutes, a sudden uproar of screaming and yelling spawned from the other side of the door. Davian looked back and paused.

"You gonna… check that out?" Caldwell asked in a hoarse whisper. Davian mumbled something under his breath and shrugged. The volume and intensity of the screams increased. Caldwell had a sick realization, knowing exactly who was doing the screaming: the prisoners.

Davian's cynical look turned to one of distress. He too knew who was screaming. The lizard stood up, contemplating what he should do.

Suddenly, the door burst open. Darkscale swiftly ran in, took a nervous glance behind him, and shut the door. "Davian!" he growled, "It izz very bad! Fighting… And killing… And screaming! You muzt zee, yez!" The tone was mostly that of alarm, but Caldwell heard a small hint of fascination in the lizard's voice.

Davian drew his sword and opened the door. And walked into a scene of absolute chaos.


	12. The King

**Author's Note: I just finished writing this entire story, all forty chapters. It's exactly 216 pages on MS Word. Now, I'll have plenty of time to revise the chapters I've already written but haven't posted, so that's pretty nice, although I'm not going to change one iota of the plot. Every character's fate has been sealed.**

* * *

XII: The King

General Davian was taken aback by what he saw when he walked out the door. He didn't have long to look, though, before some small flying object flashed past his face and hurtled inside, eventually striking something with a loud crash.

He averted his gaze for a brief moment to try and see where the object had gone, and perhaps find out what it was. He couldn't see anything, though, just Darkscale following behind him. Davian turned back and another flying object smashed into the wall next to him, splattering it with its translucent insides. Davian realized that it was an apple.

The apple had been thrown by the lizard Zalazz, who had once marched out of the forest, looking for something he could go back and tell King Kirrent about, and had laid eyes on the red fort. Now, he was busy throwing all types of fruit everywhere.

Zalazz was the least chaotic thing about the scene, however. Prisoners darted about frantically as they were pursued viciously by the lizards, all of whom had abandoned their posts. Many of the Redwallers had attempted to hide in corners or under tables. Many of the Redwallers lay dead on the floor.

"What izz going on?!" Davian demanded angrily, "Ztop, NOW!"

The general was hit by an apple thrown by the laughing Zalazz. "You not general any more, Davian!" he shouted, "King Marclaw zed you… are court clown! Hahaha!" Before the general could react, Zalazz was gone.

Davian rubbed the spot where the apple had hit him. Angrily, he picked up the fruit and smashed it against a wall. "Ztop it, now!! I order you to!!" However, not one lizard even paused.

"King… Marclaw…?" Darkscale scratched his head, "Marclaw izz king? I think King Kirrent is king!"

Davian suddenly became worried. Like Kalzmar, Davian had also heard Marclaw complaining about wanting to be a general from time to time. Had he actually gone so far as to kill King Kirrent? Was that even possible? How could Marclaw have killed the slayer of a thousand lizards? Maybe his sword really was magical…

The former general slowly continued his walk through the display of destruction. Lizards were bashing in furniture, ripping up documents, breaking windows, and performing all sorts of vandalism. Davian suddenly felt that he needed to find Marclaw, and get all of this straightened out. He noticed the ferret Limptail being harassed by Chopleg with one of the sharpened sticks that had been thrown at Caldwell's little army. Chopleg would lunge towards the ferret, purposely missing him. Limptail ducked and dodged and screamed.

"Chopleg, I order you! Ztop it!" Davian shouted, hoping that maybe Chopleg, who had been directly under his command, would listen.

"Hahaha!" laughed the lizard in reply, "King Marclaw zed we do anything now, yez! Hahaha!" He thrust the stick forward, missing Limptail's head by inches. The ferret cowered in a corner.

Davian stormed by the two, scouring the scene for this apparent "King" Marclaw. It didn't take long to spot him. He was standing at the top of a flight of stairs, proudly displaying his sword, still tainted with the blood of King Kirrent. Davian began marching towards him, another apple missing him by inches. Davian didn't even pause, however, until he reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Marclaw, what izz going on?!" he demanded angrily. It seemed to take Marclaw a few moments to hear Davian, and he didn't look down until after a few more seconds had passed.

"Hello, Davian! I izz king now, yez!" Marclaw shook the blade, and flecks of blood rained down on the ex-general. "And you not general any more! You court clown! Dance! Dance!"

Davian stared up at Marclaw, unmoving. "King Kirrent izz king, not you!"

Marclaw walked down a few steps, laughing. "I killt King Kirrent, yez! I chop-chopped off hiz head! Now, dance! Dance for me, clown!"

Davian pointed his sword up at Marclaw. "I izz killing you, Marclaw! You not king, King Kirrent izz!"

Marclaw grinned his toothy grin. "You killing me? Me? Hahaha! I killt King Kirrent, zlayer of thouzand lizardz! I kill you, too! You, dumb general! I zhould have been general, not you!" The lizards had suddenly stopped their antics and had gathered behind Davian at the base of the stairs, wanting to watch a fight. The surviving Redwallers took the opportunity to find places to hide.

Both Marclaw and Davian looked prepared to fight to the death. Both of them had their swords at the ready. Marclaw knew he had a distinct advantage, being at the top of the stairs, and smiled. This would be easier than killing King Kirrent.

Just before the two charged each other, however, a lizard named Rankeye shouted from the top of the wall, "Hey, look! Corzon izz back! And… Longearz!!!"

There was a sudden dash for the stairs up to the top of the wall where Rankeye was. Almost all of them had completely forgotten about Corzon, even though he had only been gone perhaps a few days. But now he was back, and with hares?

Both Marclaw and Davian led the way, temporarily at truce with one another. Marclaw, being near the top of the stairs, made it up first, and froze. Davian followed him, and nearly fainted.

Corzon was back, that was very true. He was also tied up and surrounded by what looked like and endless sea of hares. And, at their lead, was Lord Oxpaw, completely covered in steel armor, and wielding a gigantic sword. It was a sight Davian had hoped he'd never have to see again.

Behind them dashed up Darkscale and the other lizards, all crowding on the top of the wall, some in precarious-looking positions in order to get a better view.

The badger below wasted no time. "Where is Kirrent?!" he demanded with a hoarse bark.

Marclaw shouted back, "I killt him, yez! I king now, King Marclaw!!"

"King Marclaw?" the badger repeated, "I guess I should have figured Kirrent would be dead by now. You vermin types never seem to be able to keep the same leader for very long. Now, as you can see, we have one of your own," Oxpaw pointed at Corzon, "And, if you leave this instant without a fight, we'll let both him and all of you go back to your swamp, if you promise never to leave there again."

"Do it," Davian whispered, cowering behind Marclaw, "We muzt leave, or we die."

Marclaw turned back to him. Without even a second of contemplation, he snapped, "Zilenze!" then turned back to the badger. "We will not leave, yez! It izz you who will leave! Hahaha! Now, we will kill the dumb furry thingz in here! Hahaha!"

Davian wondered if Marclaw had suddenly completely let go of his sanity. He was _provoking _the badger. Provoking! It was lunacy!

"I should have figured it would be impossible to reason with you lizards!" Oxpaw shouted, his anger rising, "But if you harm a single creature in there, I will be sure to hunt you down and kill you myself!"

"You can not kill me!" Marclaw laughed, knowing no fear, "You can't get in here! Hahaha!"

"I can't?" Oxpaw exclaimed, "How about you watch me, lizard!" Suddenly, he charged forward, roaring, and smashed into the abbey's front gate. The gate splintered a bit after only one hit. The badger hit it again, and it splintered a little more.

"Hahaha!" Marclaw shouted down, "We will—"

He was suddenly cut off by a very loud shout from inside the abbey. Whirling around, he saw Limptail the ferret suddenly smash his paw into the side of Chopleg's head, stunning the lizard. Then the ferret bolted.

It took Marclaw all of three seconds to figure out where he was running to. "Ztop him! He izz going for the gate!!"

In a sudden shock of panic, the lizards all began charging down the stairs after the lizard. Marclaw pushed his way through them as they all tripped or trampled each other, ready to finally put an end to the ferret.

Limptail had a good head start, but the lizards were a lot faster than him. He scampered as quickly as he could to the gatehouse, with the lizards hot on his trail, Marclaw at their lead.

He made it to the gate, which was constantly being shaken back and forth by Oxpaw. Limptail suddenly realized that there was no way he could open the gate by himself, not with all the shaking going on. He turned around to see Marclaw descending on him, his sword in mid-swing.

Before Limptail could die, however, the door suddenly smashed open, slamming both the ferret and Marclaw into the wall, nearly crushing both. The lizards that had been behind them suddenly skidded to a halt.

Oxpaw the badger lord wasted no time. He brought his sword down on the unlucky Chopleg, slicing the lizard cleanly in half. The other lizards all began scampering back out of the gatehouse.

Zalazz, who had been in the back, made it out of the gatehouse first. However, he slammed the door shut behind him, trapping all of the lizards inside. He held the door shut as the frantic reptiles tried to push it open.

Oxpaw cleaved his way through the trapped lizards, sometimes slicing through two or three with one stroke. The lizards all clawed at the door, trying to get by, as Oxpaw slaughtered them all.

The lizards pushing on the door suddenly let up with a mixture of screaming and shouting. Zalazz breathed a sigh of relief. It was the last breath he ever took, as the giant sword of Oxpaw was shoved through both the door and Zalazz like a bizarre shiskabob. Then the door was forced off it hinges by the badger, and he stormed through, followed by his army of hares.

The end was near.

* * *

**Second Author's Note: By the way, this is the second-to-last chapter in Part I. After Chapter 13, most of the surviving characters vanish until Part III. There are a couple in Part II, but they really don't do anything important. Think of Part I and II as two completely different stories, which are both tied together in the third part.**


	13. The Fall

**Author's Note: Awsomewriter, I wouldn't call it a battle. I'd call it a slaughter, with the lizards running for their lives.**

* * *

XIII: The Fall

After all of the hares had ran by, the giant front gate was pushed forward from behind. As it swung back outward, Limptail and Marclaw fell to the floor in a heap. The ferret had a broken arm, but Marclaw seemed, for the most part, unhurt. He was, however, missing his sword, which distressed him immensely.

Limptail moaned. His arm had been bent at a funny angle when the giant door hit them, and now it hurt immensely. But Limptail didn't care as much about that than he did about the fact that Marclaw was right next to him, almost completely uninjured, and looking around spastically. What was he looking for? It took Limptail all of three seconds to realize that Marclaw's fancy, shiny sword was gone. The ferret noticed it on the other side of the room, long before Marclaw ever saw it.

He attempted to get up without moving his broken arm at all and failing, slipping and falling back down in a heap. Marclaw didn't even seem to notice him, which was good. Now, all he had to do was sneak by the lizard and get out the wide open gate. It should be pretty easy.

On his second attempt, Limptail was able to get up, by using the wall as support. He quietly began to move towards the door. Soon, he would be gone, out of this prison, and he could sit around a campfire and listen to Curvetail tell stories or watch Crowley do magic tricks. It'd be all good again, just like it had been before. No lizards, no Redwall, no Long Patrol. No poisons to have to choose from.

Marclaw took a quick glimpse back, to check to make sure the sword hadn't fallen the other way. Limptail froze. Marclaw simply seemed to look through him, though, as if he were some sort of transparent ghost.

Then the lizard finally saw the sword, on the other side of the gatehouse. He was paying absolutely no attention to Limptail now, but the ferret found he could not continue moving just the same. Stop being stupid, he told himself, you're very close to the door now. Just a few more steps and you'll be out, never to return again. You'll never have to see Marclaw's toothy grin as long as you live.

Limptail's legs just didn't seem to work, though. He was now screaming at himself to start moving, to get out of there, to go back to camp and take a nice, long nap, but he was glued to the spot. It was as if Marclaw had put some sort of binding spell on him to keep him in place.

That was impossible, though. Limptail was pretty superstitious, but he knew there was no way a clod like Marclaw could use magic. Except… He did seem eerily intelligent for a lizard… No, he was just being stupid. Marclaw couldn't use magic, and there was no binding spell on him. He was just being stupid. Slowly, he began to move again, confirming this thought.

Marclaw had begun moving towards the sword in the same trance-like state that he had been in when he had first seen it. How could he be so foolish, and let it out of his grasp for even a second? He internally reprimanded himself, but the overwhelming wave of excitement he got from reclaiming his sword nullified his self-anger. There was nothing else in that gatehouse except that sword, to Marclaw.

He was very close now. Light bounced off of the blade, shooting it straight into Marclaw's eyes. The lizard didn't care. He didn't even notice, really. All he could do was put on his big, toothy smile.

He was reaching for it now…

Marclaw's head left its body as the sword was suddenly thrust upward. It flew through the air and landed in front of Limptail, the smile forever frozen on its face. Limptail almost screamed.

After a few seconds, however, Limptail realized that Marclaw was dead. Instead of screaming, he began a fake, forced laugh, still looking at the head of his tormenter, the eyes glassy like crystals. Then Limptail had a thought: Who killed him?

The ferret looked up. Standing at the end of the gatehouse, holding the slain Marclaw's sword in his one remaining paw, was a very pale Colonel Caldwell. Limptail moaned. He knew that Caldwell would go for him next. Conrad had always said the Long Patrol was a bunch of vermin-hating overconfident pricks. However, this hare didn't look very confident. Instead, he looked very sick.

"Get out of here, you stupid ferret. Your friends… are looking for you. Get out!" The hare waved the sword in Limptail's direction. The sword drooped, since Caldwell could only hold it with one paw.

Caldwell didn't look well enough to fight a butterfly, but Limptail wasn't in very good shape himself, and he didn't want to get involved with the Long Patrol, not when his escape was so close. He glanced over at the open gates, then began to run as fast as he could out them.

---

Ex-general Davian stood transfixed to his spot on the top of the wall, along with Darkscale and perhaps ten other lizards who hadn't ran after Limptail. Down below, a few more lizards were putting up a pathetic attempt to retaliate. Davian saw Greenwart, who had never left her post guarding the doors, impaled by several spears at once. Still, he did and said nothing, and neither did the other lizards at the top of the wall. All of them seemed as if it were impossible for them to move.

Kalzmar walked out of the late King Kirrent's room, a solemn expression on her face. She got about two feet out of the room before she realized that everything had descended into chaos. An arrow flew by her face, missing her by inches.

The former general began to make an escape, her instincts kicking in. The main gate was a no-go; that's where all the hares were coming from in the first place. Kalzmar instead went for one of the small gates on the sides of the walls. She began to run for the first one in sight, which happened to be the very same one that Davian had opened, letting in Marclaw and Darkscale and all the rest, eventually leading to the capture of the red fort. She even passed right by the tree Davian had hid in for a whole day, where he had constantly feared detection.

On the top of the wall, Darkscale suddenly pointed and yelled, "Kalzmar!"

In complete unison, all of the lizards turned their head in the direction Darkscale was pointing. They pondered this new development with great interest. What was Kalzmar doing?

One lizard, figuring that perhaps it would be a good idea to find out, began to dash down the stairs. He got to the halfway point when he suddenly lurched over, struck simultaneously by three arrows and a javelin.

The remaining lizards looked at each other for a short moment, pondering what to do next. Then, all of them began to dash down the stairs at the same time, pushing and clawing their way in front.

Darkscale led the group, with Davian trailing in the back, unfortunately stuck behind all the slow-moving lizards, such as Rankeye. A flurry of arrows and javelins went flying at the lizards, hitting most of them. The slain lizards fell on top of the still living ones, causing a bizarre avalanche as the lizards all rolled down the stairs in a heap, with the living ones trying to escape frantically.

Davian found the stairs suddenly impassable. A few arrows soared over his head, striking the wall next to him. After a small moment's hesitation, Davian began to run back up the stairs, where at least he would be harder to hit with projectiles.

Darkscale ran down the grassy, open area alongside the wall, dodging a flurry of attacks. In front of him, Kalzmar had unlatched the small side gate and was making her escape. Behind him were maybe two or three other lizards who had managed to escape the carnage, all going after the last avenue of escape. Kalzmar had vanished out of the gate, relatively safe. Darkscale skidded to a stop and followed her, and a couple of other lizards followed him.

None of those lizards were Ex-general Davian, however. Davian clambered back to the top of the wall, keeping low as a few more arrows whizzed by overhead. The hares were now running up to him now, lancing and stabbing the handful of lizards that hadn't managed to escape.

Rankeye, who had managed to claw his way out from under a dead lizard, was trying to get up the stairs in an attempt to follow Davian. Even though the ex-general had no idea what he was doing, Rankeye figured that since he was in command, he would. He scrambled up to the top of wall.

Davian was desperately trying to figure out some sort of way he could get past the hares and escape, pushing his brain to its limits. There were two ways out of the red fort: through the very large main gate, and through on of the small side gates. Those couldn't be the only ways, though. There had to be another way to escape.

Rankeye, seconds after he got to the top of the stairs, was struck in the back by javelin. Losing his balance, he stumbled forward and dropped off of the wall, tumbling down to the ground outside of the abbey, hitting the earth with a sickening thud. Davian peered over the side of the wall. If he fell down there, he might break every bone in his body, of course, but…

Several hares had forced their way past the heap of dead lizards and were swiftly climbing the stairway. Davian gritted his teeth, knowing that there was only one way out of this predicament.

Just before the first hare made it to the top of the stairs, aiming to run the lizard through with a polished sword, Davian ran and jumped over the side of the wall, hurtling down to the ground below.

---

At as far a distance possible, Wemys and Swiss watched the events as they unfolded. As soon as Lord Oxpaw and the Long Patrol had shown up, they had nearly panicked, and ran halfway back to camp before Wemys got himself under control and forced Swiss to go back with him. By the time they had returned, Lord Oxpaw had been ramming into the main gate with extreme force, splintering it. A few seconds later, the door had been nearly ripped off its large hinges and Oxpaw and the entire Long Patrol poured in, slaughtering everything in their path.

Of course, at that moment, things suddenly seemed very bad for Limptail. Conrad loved to tell stories about how evil the Long Patrol was, how they'd kill any vermin they came across, no questions asked, and most of the senior members of the group backed this claim up whole-heartedly. However, Wemys decided to wait there. It was exciting, waiting there.

While Wemys and Limptail were friends, the real reason Wemys was waiting so long was that just being there enthralled him. It was exciting, an adventure of sorts. Back at camp it was always the same. He'd wake up, gather some breakfast, talk with the rest of the group, gather some lunch, talk with the rest of the group, gather some diner, talk with the rest of the group. Sure, Curvetail would tell stories and Crowley would do magic tricks, but the stories were depressing and the tricks were fake. And once one got past those two, the only thing really left to do was gamble with Jeld, which wasn't a good idea. Jeld always seemed to win.

So here Wemys was, on a mission. Doing reconnaissance on enemy territory. He had been kicking around an idea in his head to attempt to infiltrate the enemy headquarters, but he had scrapped that. There had to be somewhere Wemys drew the line, and that was when his own skin was in danger. Danger wasn't fun, and he'd been in it enough times to know that when there was danger, creatures usually ended up dying.

"'Ey, look, iddn't that Limptail?" Swiss suddenly exclaimed. He rose up and pointed at a ferret that was dashing out of the main gate. Wemys looked. It definitely was Limptail. Somehow he had managed to survive.

"It is!" Wemys exclaimed, "Limptail!! This way!!" He and Swiss began to yell and wave. Limptail stopped for a second, looking to see where all the noise was coming from. It didn't take him long to see Wemys and Swiss. He instantly started to run towards them, paying no attention to his broken arm.

Limptail got all of two inches away from his starting point when a scaly green thing plummeted out of the air and landed right on him. Swiss and Wemys exchanged glances for a second, not exactly sure if they had really just seen what they thought they had seen. Then, the two of them burst out of the bushes and began to run over to where Limptail was.

The ferret was screaming hysterically. He had thought he was in the blue, with nothing left to stop him from going back to camp and listening to Curvetail tell stories and watch Crowley do magic tricks and maybe even gamble with Jeld, and then Marclaw's ghost had fallen from the sky, landing on top of him! He knew it was too good to be true that the lizard was really dead! Limptail knew that a body could die, but a spirit lived on beyond that. It wasn't like ghosts hadn't visited Limptail before, either… He had seen them all the time in his dreams…

Wemys and Swiss grabbed Limptail and began to drag him away from the ghost of Marclaw, which was neither a ghost nor Marclaw. They pulled the ferret all the way back to the bushes, with Limptail screaming the entire way.

The three of them crashed back into the woods, falling in a heap. Limptail abruptly stopped screaming, instead breathing heavily. Swiss rubbed his head, which he had bumped on a low-lying tree branch. Wemys looked at them for a second, and then suddenly began to laugh.

Swiss and Limptail glanced at each other, confused, and then Swiss began to laugh as well. Limptail scratched his head, shrugged, and began to laugh as well, although it was fake and forced. He really didn't feel like laughing at the moment, but he decided he'd go along with it.

At that moment, Ex-general Davian burst through the bushes and landed right in front of them, and all laughing ceased incredibly quickly.

---

Corzon had seen Davian fall from the sky and land on the ferret, but he wasn't really interested in that. He was too busy peeking inside the front gate, getting a glimpse at the amazing insides of the red fort. There must be so many shiny and interesting things in there, he just knew it. If only he hadn't been tied up…

A small, wavy sword suddenly sliced through his bonds, as if something had decided to answer his prayers. He turned to see that he had been rescued by Darkscale and Kalzmar, as well as four other lizards.

"Come on, we muzt hurry!" Kalzmar shouted, running towards the forest.

"Where izz King Kirrent?" Corzon demanded, not able to resist asking. Kalzmar cringed. She didn't want to answer that question. She didn't want to ever have to think of King Kirrent again, not after what she had done.

"Dead," she replied simply, then dashed off into the forest. Corzon shrugged somberly, and then followed.

---

The lizards inside Redwall had been eradicated. Lord Oxpaw stood on the top of the wall, looking down on the once again peaceful woods. Justice had once again been dealt by his paw. Now, the only threat that remained to the good creatures of Mossflower was that treacherous weasel Regner and his horde…

Lieutenant Tabbins walked up behind the badger, and saluted smartly. "Sah! Reports on the battle, sah!"

"Let me hear it."

"No casualties on our side, sah, although I wish I could say the same for the Redwallers. We found a lot of 'em dead. It ain't pretty. Most of 'em were cooped up in closets and corners, hiding."

Oxpaw sighed. Why did so many good creatures have to die because of the evil in the world? Why couldn't vermin ever just leave them alone?

"We also found Colonel Caldwell, sah. He's in pretty bad shape, missin' a paw and all, but I think he'll be all right."

Oxpaw nodded silently. Tabbins continued.

"Sah, we also believe a few of the lizards escaped, perhaps four or five, as well as the one that jumped from the top of the wall. Should we go after them?"

Oxpaw paused. He very much would love to go after them, until every last one was dead. However, now was not the time. They had to stay there and assist the Redwallers and clean up the mess they had made.

"No," Oxpaw replied calmly, "We've seen the last of them."

END PART I

* * *

**Author's Note: Okay, you can say goodbye to most of these characters for a while (there are two that return in the next chapter, though, so emphasis is on "most"). Part II focuses on a whole new cast of characters, as I said before. These characters also have more character traits than "stupid", like the lizards did, and I must say it was a lot more enjoyable writing Part II than it was Part I. There's a lot more plot twists and stuff that I'm hoping will catch you off-guard, although you aren't going to see the bait-n-switch that was in this Part; II is pretty serious straight from the beginning, although there is some dark comedy mixed in. Ehhh... I'll just let you guys read it. If I start talking, it's kinda hard for me to shut up, and I may start ruining plot points. . **


	14. The Scout

**Author's Note: Shoman: There's exactly forty chapters (three parts, each part being thirteen chapters, and a one chapter epilogue).**

**And, here is Part II.**

* * *

XIV: The Scout

The scout commander, a decent-sized weasel who stood proudly, surveyed the situation with mild interest. Lizards. You didn't get too many lizards out in these parts. It was usually too cold for them.

But now, he had seven of them completely surrounded by his scouting party. They had found them when the reptiles were all sleeping. There wasn't a lookout or anything. Not too smart of them to go to sleep without posting a lookout. Of course, lizards weren't very smart.

The scout commander turned to one of his subordinates, a rat named Hairmold. "Ya think we oughtta wake 'em up, eh?"

Hairmold shrugged. "I don't wanna stand out here waitin' for 'em to get up themselves. Brekkfist'd be all gone by the time we got back to the castle."

"I s'pose yer right, Hairmold. Valla, Amora, go wake 'em up," ordered the scout commander, also not really wanting to miss breakfast because of some lazy lizards. Especially today, when breakfast was supposed to be some sort of fish soup. The scout commander enjoyed eating fish.

Two ferrets, identical twin sisters, moved forward and began to prod the lizards with the ends of their spears. One by one, the lizards rose sleepily, yawning and stretching. They were completely unaware of the predicament they were in. The scout commander chuckled to himself.

"Rise an' shine, sleepyheads!" he shouted. The awakening lizards all turned to him dumbly. Then, after a few moments, they all seemed to spontaneously realize what was happening, and jumped up, three of them brandishing weapons.

"Not so fast," the scout commander continued, "We gotcha surrounded. Drop yer weapons, those of yew that have 'em." He made a sweeping motion with one paw at the small circle of vermin around the lizards.

The three weapons clattered to the ground: a spear, a wavy sword, and some sort of wooden hammer. Very lousy weapons. The scout commander wondered where they had gotten them.

"Good," the weasel said almost soothingly, "Now, I'm Golding, the scout commander of Castle Regner. We don't really like trespassers, y'see? I'm 'fraid I'll hafta bring ya to Regner _the Magnificent_. An' I warn ya, he ain't magnificent for nuttin'. Actually, he is, but ya can just ignore that. He's still pretty scary." The lizards just stared at him dumbly, wondering what exactly this Golding character was talking about. "Com'n, let's get movin'. I don't wanna miss brekkfist. It's s'posed ta be fish soup, y'know."

The lizards were forced along by several assorted vermin. Saying nothing, they all followed Golding as he made his way through some trees and underbrush, hacking at all the branches that got in his way with a saber. They walked for a long time, and none of them spoke. The vermin all seemed to be on full alert, scanning the forest for something. The lizards didn't know what, though.

Then, the trees suddenly ended and they stepped into a clearing. Standing forebodingly at the top of a hill was a dark, malicious-looking fortress, the complete antithesis of the red fort the lizards had been to about a season ago. There were four dark, twisted towers sprouting from inside the walls like weeds, and the ramparts were being patrolled by all sorts of vermin.

Golding led the way up the hill, towards a steel front gate. At the top of the wall was a stoat watching them progress, obscured by shadows. Golding and the stoat shared a glance, and then the stoat disappeared from the wall.

"That was just ol' Deathblaze," the weasel said to the lizards with a slight hint of a smile, "The cap'n of the guard. He's Regner's little pet killer, but he won't touch ya unless Regner or Ballantyne orders him to, so don't worry."

The lizards exchanged glances. What had they gotten themselves into this time? The front gate slowly creaked open, revealing a poorly lit main hall. Golding proceeded inside without hesitation.

As they walked through the main hall, they garnered many odd looks from the vermin loitering about. However, nobeast said anything as Golding confidently led the way. The scout commander weaved through hallways, going through doors left and right. The castle was like a labyrinth on the inside. The lizards had no idea how Golding could know where to go.

After marching up a small, twisting flight of stairs, they stopped in front of a solitary door in an empty hallway. Golding knocked on the door swiftly, and then stepped back a few feet. After about five seconds, the door abruptly swung open, with a large, dominating weasel standing in the doorway.

The weasel was dressed in very elaborate golden armor, with an intricate crest on the breastplate. Behind him was a long, flowing red cape. The weasel's helm was adorned with an eagle feather. In one paw was a large battle axe that was taller than the weasel. His face was menacing.

Golding and his subordinates all bowed. "My liege, we found these lizards in yer territory, and decided to bring 'em to ya," the scout commander announced frankly, forcing himself to insert the "my liege" in the beginning.

Without warning, the large weasel struck Golding with the bottom of his axe, sending the smaller weasel sprawling. "Lizards, Golding? Lizards? I didn't askyou to bring me lizards, I asked you to bring me hares. I don't see any hares here."

Golding slowly rose to his feet, staring the other weasel directly in the eye. "Apologies, my liege, but—"

"But you wanted to make it back in time for breakfast so you decided that lizards were a good enough substitute for hares?"

"My liege, we haven't seen no longears in days. I don't think they're here," Golding responded coolly. It appeared as if he was used to this kind of treatment from his superior, but hatred burned in his eye.

"Fine, then! I'll just take your word over Ballantyne's. Yes, the little itty bitty scout commander knows more about this kind of stuff than my ingenious head tactician. That makes a lot of sense."

Golding wanted to scream in fury, but he remained calm externally. "My liege, Ballantyne don't go out there like we do. We've searched everywhere in that forest, an' we ain't seen nuttin'. Iddn't that right, mateys?" Golding turned to the rest of his group, who all nodded accordingly.

The large weasel frowned. "Maybe you just aren't looking hard enough, that's what I think. After breakfast, you'll continue searching for the rest of the day, and I don't want any complaints about that."

Golding bowed again. "Yes, my liege," he murmured. Regner then turned to the newly-captured lizards.

"I guess I might as well make the most of you. Which one of you is the leader?" he asked. Two lizards, both dressed in ragged white cloaks, stepped forward simultaneously. "Both of you? Fine, come into my office. Golding, make sure the rest of them don't go anywhere, okay?"

As Golding said "Yes, my liege" again, the weasel walked into his "office" and took a seat behind a desk. There were no other seats, so the two lizards simply stood in front of the desk.

"Hello," the weasel began, smiling falsely, "My name is Regner the Magnificent. I'm the commander of this castle." On the desk was a small candle that lit up Regner's face, causing shadows to dance around it. It simply made him look even more menacing.

"I izz Kalzmar, and thiz izz Corzon," replied one of the lizards.

"We were generalz for King Kirrent," announced Corzon. Kalzmar cringed at the mention of the name. She had been having nightmares about King Kirrent ever since they had fled Redwall. Horrid nightmares, in which King Kirrent's headless body rose up and slowly stalked her through the dark red walls…

"King Kirrent… You mean _the _King Kirrent?!" Regner suddenly jumped out of his seat and leaned over his desk, captivated by this new development. "King Kirrent the Great, who holds the record for the longest time having conquered Redwall?! You were his generals?!"

Every mention of King Kirrent's name hit Kalzmar like a giant boulder. She flinched every time she heard it. Corzon merely nodded.

"King Kirrent must have been a total genius in order to capture Redwall, even if just for a short amount of time! And you lot must have been amazing fighters, if you were able to combat the warriors that live there! This… is… great! I have to tell Ballantyne immediately!" Regner looked incredibly enthusiastic. Kalzmar and Corzon exchanged glances. They didn't really think that they had done much of anything in order to conquer Redwall, but neither said a word about that.

Regner propped his axe against a wall and began to wring his paws together excitedly. "Heheheh! I can't wait to see the look on Ballantyne's face when I tell him that we have the warrior lizards that conquered Redwall under our command! The strategies he'll be able to make with that knowledge… Hmm… I wonder…"

Kalzmar and Corzon stared at Regner blankly. What exactly did he think they had done? He had changed from a menacing, imposing warlord to a giddy weasel just like that. Now he seemed to be mumbling to himself, something about the Long Patrol and Ballan-something and things that made no sense. After a bit of this, he suddenly seemed to give up and relaxed a bit.

"Bah, I'm not cut out for this tactician stuff. That's why I have Ballantyne, you know. He's a genius. He's also a bit… odd. Everybeast seems to hate him, too, except me and Deathblaze. Oh, Deathblaze is the captain of the guard; you may see him from time to time. He's always angry at something. I suggest you don't talk to him."

Regner seemed to have drastically changed from the menacing, imposing figure he cut just a few minutes ago to a talkative, enthusiastic one. The two lizards wondered if such mood changes were to be expected from the warlord.

"Hmm… This is what I'll do. I could talk and talk and talk about my horde and my castle, but it won't do you much good. I'll have to get somebeast to give you a tour… But who…?"

"Golding?" Corzon suggested innocently.

Suddenly, Regner transformed again, back into his menacing figure. The candlelight illuminated his face once again in the eerie, shadowy way, and Regner seemed to grow a few inches spontaneously.

"_Never _listen to a word Golding says. _Ever_!" Regner exclaimed, "He's been out to get me for months now, gathering followers and all. I've managed to keep him in check, but it's only a matter of time before he tries something. But I'll be ready, yes, very ready. He can't defeat me, not when I have Ballantyne and Deathblaze at my side!"

Once again, the lizards stared at Regner blankly. Apparently, the warlord liked to go off on tangents, no matter what personality he really had.

"I've a good mind to just go out there and kill him myself, yes, but he's too popular with the horde. If I killed him, it'd cause an uproar, a rebellion. At least, that's what Ballantyne says. I'm inclined to believe him, though."

Corzon and Kalzmar exchanged glances. They had no clue what the weasel was talking about now.

"Whatever. I'll have Golding take you to the mess hall. The horde probably won't take too kindly to you at first, but just don't instigate anything and you'll be fine," Regner explained. Neither Corzon nor Kalzmar knew what instigate meant, but they remained silent. "Now, get on out of here. And remember: Don't listen to anything Golding says. Not one word."

Corzon and Kalzmar walked towards the door slowly and robotically, with blank expressions on their face. They had simply woken up and been forced into an army.

They exited, and the door shut behind them. Regner began to laugh.


	15. The Mess

**Author's Note: Okay, first off, you guys said a lot of very interesting things about Regner, conisdering later events. I'm not going to really respond to what Warrior said due to spoilers, but I can answer Awsomewriter's comment about Regner being bipolar. The interesting thing is that Regner is _not _bipolar, but his captain of the guard, Deathblaze, actually _is_. In fact, Deathblaze has a whole lot of screwed-up mental disorders, as you'll see in two chapters when he actually starts to do stuff.**

**Secondly, if you thought Regner was weird, you're going to flip when you see his tactician Ballantyne, who's introduced here. Try not to jump to any conclusions about him, though; his appearence and speech will probably distract you from what's really going on.**

**Anyways, it's kind of a short chapter, really just introducing Ballantyne.**

* * *

XV: The Mess

Kalzmar and Corzon exited Regner's office to find one of the lizards, Darkscale, engaged in conversation with Scout Commander Golding. The weasel looked up at the lizards as they returned.

"What 'appened?" Golding asked, "Did he make ya part of the horde or sumthin'?"

"Yez," Kalzmar responded simply, "He zed you take uz to mezz hall."

"He alzo zed not lizten to you," Corzon added. There was a sudden chorus of laughter as Golding and his cronies heard this. The lizards didn't know what exactly was so funny about the situation.

"Of course he'd say that, not to listen to me," Golding snickered, "The poor ol' weasel don't know it, but it's not me that's plottin' behind his back. It's his tacti-whatever, Ballantyne. That ferret's got him believin' anything he says. So, Ballantyne told Regner that it was _me _doin' all the plottin', but it iddn't true."

The lizards all looked at Golding blankly, saying nothing. The laughing ceased. After a few seconds, Golding continued, "Com'n, let's go to the mess hall, it ain't far from here." He motioned forward with his saber, and the entire group began heading back the way they came.

As they marched down the spiral staircase, the stoat from the top of the wall, Deathblaze, brushed past them on his way up. The stoat was sturdily built, with a piercing gaze, and dressed in a brown long-sleeved jacket. Golding shied away from Deathblaze's eyes and attempted to ignore him. The stoat continued his way up, moving past the lizards and Golding's underlings silently.

When Deathblaze had vanished, Golding turned to the lizards and said, "That 'un is plottin' with Ballantyne. Ya can't trust him, although I don't know why anybeast would want to either way. He fights all the time, y'know."

Kalzmar thought it was funny that Deathblaze would be plotting against Regner, especially since Golding had previously called him Regner's "pet killer". Regner was right: it seemed as if Golding was the one that _really _couldn't be trusted. Instead of saying this, however, she said, "I didn't zee zcarz. Don't he get hurt?"

Golding snickered again. "Of course he gets hurt, I've seen him half-dead with mebbe three or four arrers stickin' out of him. He just covers 'em all up with his jacket, y'see. It gives the impression that he ain't never been touched in battle, but it's just a trick. Now, look, we're at the mess hall."

The weasel opened up a set of double doors that had been in front of him and walked into the next room. Kalzmar and the rest followed. The mess hall wasn't very interesting, just a big room with a lot of tables and some windows here and there. At one end of the room was a tapestry that displayed Regner striking down a badger valiantly, with the weasel warlord portrayed in such a way that one might have considered him angelic.

As soon as Golding walked into the room, he was met with a small amount of cheering. Regner had been right; Golding was popular. While almost every table was filled and some creatures were even eating on the floor, there was one table in the middle of the room that was completely empty, reserved for Golding and his "mateys".

"'Ello, everybeast!" Golding announced cheerily, "These lizards here are joinin' the horde. I don't want to see anybeast messin' 'round with 'em, y'hear?" Golding then proceeded to his reserved table, and offered the lizards a seat.

"Why're ya bein' so friendly to the lizards?" whispered Hairmold to Golding as the posse all took their seats.

"I need more allies," Golding whispered back, "Now, shut up an' be nice."

The group all sat around the empty table silently. A few moments passed, and then Golding burst out laughing. "Of course! There's no grub!" he exclaimed merrily. Kalzmar and Corzon, for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, exchanged glances. Why was everyone around here so _weird_? "Valla, Amora, go get us sumthin' to eat!"

"Why us?" one of the ferret twins (there was no way of telling which one) replied indignantly.

"Why not?" Golding shrugged. Grumbling, the two ferrets got up and walked away from the table. Turning back to the lizards, the scout commander resumed his explanation on the workings of Regner's horde. "Now, if ya ever have the displeasure of meetin' Ballantyne, then I suggest ya run as fast as ya can before he starts talkin', else you wanna be bored to death. He's the biggest windbag on the face of the—"

"What did you just utter?!"

The entire room, which had been bustling with noise and activity, suddenly fell silent. Every creature turned from their meals, watching as a solitary ferret swiftly marched down the center of the room, stopping just in front of the table where Golding was sitting. The scout commander smiled.

"'Ello, Ballantyne. Fancy meetin' you here, I thought ya liked to eat in yer room."

Ballantyne, size-wise, was like any other ferret- tall and a little lanky. However, he didn't look like any other ferret in existence. Unlike the other vermin, who were all unbelievably dirty, Ballantyne was impeccably groomed. He wore a bright red vest, with a small golden chain hanging out of the pocket. His paws were folded behind his back, and he stood incredibly straight. In his left eye was a perfectly polished monocle, completing the image. Also unlike all the other vermin in the room, he was completely unarmed.

"Lord Regner the Magnificent informed me that he had just recently enlisted the aid of the lizards that conquered Redwall approximately one season prior to today. I ventured down to this decrepit appendix in order to survey the lizards in question so that I could better formulate my strategies of deep and brilliant genius," replied Ballantyne in one quick, rapid breath, "However, as I performed my entrance, I was assaulted by a mixture of foul insults to my name, of which I am greatly displeasured by. I require an explanation to these actions immediately."

Kalzmar and the other lizards suddenly understood what Golding had meant; Ballantyne talked more then the scout commander and the warlord combined. And half of the words that he had said didn't even sound like real words. What was a "decrepit appendix" supposed to be?

"Well, Ballantyne," Golding spat, "I was just talkin' 'bout how much of a stupid windbag yew are, that's all."

Ballantyne recoiled back in disgust, the monocle glimmering back and forth in the light. "You, you, you, you scoundrel! Stupid windbag indeed! Why, I can engage in that sort of discussion as well, if you wish it. I can inform you all about your foolish father and how he betrayed Lord Regner the Magnificent and got himself slain, if you wish it. My, if there ever was a stupid windbag, it certainly was that putrid, utterly useless father of yours, Golding!"

Golding suddenly leaped up from the table and thrust his saber forward, stopping it inches from Ballantyne's nose. The scout commander's entourage jumped up as well, their weapons drawn too. The lizards sat silently.

Oddly enough, Ballantyne didn't even flinch. He merely smiled a very knowing smile. After a few moments, Golding drew back his sword and sat back down again, shortly followed by the rest of his crew.

"One day, Ballantyne, yew ain't gonna have ol' Deathblaze around to watch your back," Golding sneered, glimpsing over Ballantyne's shoulder at the stoat in question, who was leaning against a wall right under the tapestry of Regner, "An' when that day comes, yew will be sorry. Very sorry."

"And one day, Golding, I shall finally uncover absolute, irrefutable proof that you are forming a rebellion against Lord Regner the Magnificent, and have you swiftly and cleanly executed. Perhaps I shall fashion your fur into a trendy winter coat. Wouldn't that be just lovely?" Ballantyne winked at Golding with his right eye. "Now, I have viewed the lizards. I shall now depart for my abode, where I shall conceive an ingenious strategy in a state of deep, exalted meditation. Good day to you."

Ballantyne turned and marched back out the way he had come from. Golding looked up and saw that Deathblaze had vanished likewise. After a few moments, the vermin turned back to their meals, and the normal noises of the mess hall rose up again.

"Now who are ya gonna trust, me or that stupid windbag?" Golding asked.

Corzon and the other lizards all affirmed that they would trust the scout commander. But Kalzmar was skeptical. Everything about Golding just seemed so false.

* * *

**Other Author's Note: This is just an interesting tidbit I'd like to tell you guys about Golding and Ballantyne, as I'm sure none of you really catch the allusions in their names. You see, in the 19th century, a man named R. M. Ballantyne wrote a story called _Coral Island_. It was about three boys who are shipwrecked on an island, become instant friends, are incredibly smart and resourceful, and make all kinds of things and classify the wildlife on the island and a bunch of really, really idealized stuff like that. Since this was Victorian England, many people thought that this was actually a realistic depiction of what would happen to shipwrecked boys. **

**Well, about a hundred years later, a mand named William Golding read that story and thought it was the biggest load of junk he'd ever read. So he wrote a parody of it, where the shipwrecked boys, instead of becoming friends and building all this great stuff, descended into savagery and killed each other. This book was called _Lord of the Flies_.**

**Just an interestign tidbit. I like to use all sorts of allusions, especially in the names of my characters. The character Wemys from Part 1 is named after a character in _Lord of the Flies_, as are his two siblings.**


	16. The Plan

**Author's Note: Another short chapter. In fact, the next four chapters are actually rather short. But after those four chapters, the chapters grow substancially in length for the rest of the story (most of the chapters in Part III are a good three to four pages longer than the longest ones in Parts I and II, actually). However, despite the length, I feel this is actually one of the more entertaining chapters in the entire book. It starts off with a dark leering parody of Sues and Badfic, then follows up with a very unexpected twist. Well, just read it. . **

XVI: The Plan

_Chapter XXXI: The Grotesque Fiend_

_Enytnallab the Invincible continued his glorious journey, traversing the southern lands with his faithful companions Renger and Ezalbhtaed. However, the pristine beauty of these lands concealed a hidden danger: The evil monster Gnidlog lurked amongst the arbor of the woods, patiently awaiting its next sustenance._

"_I'm tired," complained Renger, who had over-exerted himself earlier that day. Enytnallab sighed. Why couldn't everybeast be perfect, such as how he was?_

_Suddenly, out from the foliage leapt Gnidlog, seizing Renger in its vile talons! Renger screamed in absolute terror. Ezalbhtaed, confused, accidentally ran into a stern tree and fell unconscious._

_Enytnallab, however, remained calm. Lifting his magnificent long sword, he cleaved Gnidlog into two pieces, freeing poor Renger from its treacherous clutches._

"_Thank you, Enytnall_

The door to Ballantyne's study suddenly opened. Ballantyne turned from the masterpiece he had been writing in frustration. When his deep mental exaltation was broken, the results could be disastrous.

In the doorway was a stoat named Taroll. Taroll was a loyal, trustworthy character who was one of the few hordebeasts not affiliated with Golding in any way, shape, or form. Still, he had barged in at a very inopportune time. Ballantyne haughtily dabbed his quill in the ink well on the corner of the desk.

"Whatever has caused you to perturb the work of my masterpiece surely must be important," Ballantyne snapped with a furrowed brow, "Or you should very well depart from my study this instant, lest I be suddenly tempted to forcibly remove you from my presence!"

Taroll would have rolled his eyes if it wouldn't have caused Ballantyne to go off on a long-winded rant. There was no way Ballantyne could forcibly remove a snail from his presence, let alone a full-grown stoat. Still, Taroll merely replied, "Lord Regner wants ta see ya, jus' lettin' ya know. He wants ya ta bring yer plans with ya, too." After he had relayed the information to the tactician, Taroll swiftly departed. There was no need to spend any more time with Ballantyne that absolutely necessary.

Ballantyne scoffed. It had grown dark; why would Regner wish to see him at this hour? This was supposed to be the time where he went undisturbed, free to write his masterful work, simply entitled _Enytnallab_, which so far had managed to fill up roughly two hundred pages of parchment. Ballantyne figured that one day he would be able to deliver his completed works to someplace where there were creatures that understood the importance of fine literature, unlike here. He had once tried to teach Deathblaze how to write. It hadn't been pretty.

Annoyed, the ferret put away his novel and extracted a multitude of maps (he had made them himself; among his many self-proclaimed talents was that of a cartographer, although the maps themselves were horribly out of scale) from a drawer. Maps were always very helpful when portraying to Regner the strategies and tactics he had devised. Simple words usually could not make the warlord understand. Ballantyne had to _show _him.

However, today Ballantyne would have to show Regner nothing. He had finally come up with a plan that could eradicate the Long Patrol once and for all. And, oddly enough, it had nothing to do with the arrival of the lizards, and almost everything to do with Golding, who hadn't changed in seasons. Ballantyne simply had not realized how easily he could kill two birds (or, a weasel and a badger's giant army) with one stone, until now. The plan had just come to him, as he sat in his state of exalted meditation.

Ballantyne pulled one last item from the drawer: a bottle of fine ale. Looking over the bottle in self-admiration, he tucked it under his arm along with the maps and departed his room.

It was late; the only creatures he passed were the occasional guards. That was good; there were fewer witnesses. In fact, it was almost perfect that Regner had called him in at night instead of during the day; that way, not even Golding would be suspicious of him.

Ballantyne knew the other vermin all despised him with great passion; no amount of delusion could cover that fact up. The only thing keeping him alive right now was Regner, and, by extension, Deathblaze. Luckily, Deathblaze would still protect him, even under the unlikely circumstance of Regner's death. Which was very, very fortunate.

Ballantyne entered Regner's office.

"Your Lord Excellency," the ferret announced, bowing, "I have finally devised such a cunning, intricate plan that the complete and utter extermination of the Long Patrol is imminent. This plan is almost one hundred percent completely full-proof and will also remove us of Golding in the process."

Regner the Magnificent smiled. That was a good way to start, he mused to himself. "So, I take it that the lizards gave you inspiration?"

Ballantyne placed the maps and the bottle of ale on Regner's desk delicately. "Actually, Sire, they did no such thing. While I am certain that their fighting prowess could greatly benefit us on the battlefield, perhaps even to the degree that Sir Deathblaze can, I am afraid that Golding has already corrupted them with his pleasant tongue and slithery manner."

Regner frowned. He had specifically told those lizards not to believe a word Golding said. "Go on then, tell me your master plan."

"Yes, yes!" Ballantyne replied jubilantly, "It is such an absolutely brilliant plan, I myself was amazed at my brilliance! I even provided this excellent ale for our consumption, in order to celebrate my ingenious scheme. Come, drink!" The ferret pushed the bottle forward.

Without even hesitating, Regner uncorked the bottle and slurped down a great gulp of the ale. "Okay, now tell me the plan. I want to get it started as soon as possible. Those darn hares have been giving me trouble for far too long. Who cares if I want to sack a couple of villages here and there? I ain't bothering them."

"Am not," Ballantyne replied, waving a finger, "I am not bothering them. 'Ain't' is not proper grammar." As he said this, he reached into his pocket and extracted a circular copper device, which was attached to the small golden chain. On the back was a small key, and the ferret wound it.

"What's that?" Regner pointed to the device. He had seen the small chain before numerous times, but never knew it was actually connected to anything. And why did Ballantyne keep distracting him? He just wanted to hear the plan.

"This is a device of my own creation," Ballantyne answered proudly, "As you can likely see, when I wind the invention up, a small dial on the front, or face, of the innovation begins to revolve around ploddingly in one full revolution. You see, as an aspiring and yet completely successful inventor, I created a multitude of objects of measurement, such as this, which measures time. One full revolution is approximately one and a half minutes. Ingenious, isn't it? Of course, I would have greatly enjoyed it if one revolution was equivalent to one minute, seeing as one is a nice, round numeral, but alas, such feats are impossible."

Regner frowned. He just wanted to hear the plan. "Yeah, sure. Now, what do you plan to do to stop the Long Patrol?"

"I will tell you in about ten seconds, if you will allow it. Please do not interrogate me on why I do this, it is terribly important. You see, I must wait a proper amount of time before the poison that you just ingested works its wondrous effects on your body, or else you may just leap up and slay me on the spot."

"What?!" Regner shouted. Did Ballantyne just say what he thought he said?

"Yes, the ale you have just consumed so readily was corrupted by a toxin of my own devising. You should be feeling rather exhausted at this moment, that is completely to be expected. Now, you will find yourself having a refreshingly long slumber just… about… now."

Regner, who had jumped out of his chair towards his battle axe, suddenly fell limp on the stone floor. Ballantyne also rose from his seat, and stood directly above the lifeless body of the weasel, frowning.

"Reaching for his axe? I would have preferred it if he trusted me a little more than that. When was the last incident in which I ever let him down?" spoke the ferret slowly. The small round device's dial suddenly stopped moving, and Ballantyne carefully slid it back into the pocket of his vest.

The ferret slid back out of the room, undetected.


	17. The Uproar

XVII: The Uproar

Deathblaze, the captain of the guard, was the one who discovered the unmoving Regner the next morning.

Deathblaze had entered Regner's horde fairly recently (at least, compared to Ballantyne, who seemed to have been Regner's tactician since the dawn of time), and he had swiftly and surely made his fighting prowess known. His promotion to captain of the guard had been incredibly swift. Of course, it caused the former captain of the guard, Golding's father, to betray Regner and attempt an assassination. Deathblaze had killed Golding's father himself. It had been a pathetic fight. Deathblaze cut down the creature that had once embodied the power and prestige of Regner's horde within seconds. It couldn't even be considered a duel.

Despite his almost unparalleled skill, speed, and power, Deathblaze was oddly insecure. In fact, Deathblaze wasn't even his real name. His real name seemed weak and flowery, and the stoat didn't want to have to face ridicule for it. So, he simply told everybeast that his name was Deathblaze, and no creature had ever questioned that. His insecurity was also why he wore the jacket to cover up his scars (not because he wanted to appear invincible to intimidate his foes, as Golding had suggested).

Deathblaze had a multitude of psychological issues, the insecurity just being the tip of the iceberg. Some of the disorders didn't even make any reasonable sense. Ballantyne had given the stoat a "psychological analysis", with the diagnosis being a whole entire slew of crazy words and terms that meant nothing to anybeast but the eccentric ferret. Deathblaze was aware he had problems. He knew what caused them all, too: His lousy family. Luckily, he had at least managed to hold on to his sanity, although he was sure Regner would love it if he ever went completely rabid: it'd probably increase his performance in battle immensely.

The closest thing Deathblaze had to a friend was Ballantyne, who at least seemed to understand the stoat's myriad of problems. Although nothing the tactician ever said made a lick of sense.

Deathblaze went over these thoughts every night as he guarded the main gate dutifully. It was the same repetition of the same ideas night after night. He thought about his family, how messed up he was, and his goals. Currently, those goals were kill every hare and badger in sight.

Every morning, he checked into Regner's office to give his report. This morning was no different.

Regner lay where Ballantyne had left him, completely motionless. Deathblaze stood over the body. There were no wounds or injuries. He looked at the desk, where a half-empty bottle of ale sat. Regner could either have drunken himself into a stupor, or he had been poisoned.

Deathblaze coldly figured the latter. Regner wasn't a profuse drinker. To make sure, he kicked the warlord. No movement. Regner's arm, reaching out for his axe, sagged like a heavy load.

It had been Golding. He knew it. His temper rising, working itself into the bloody wrath that always seemed to arise in the stoat prior to a fight, he drew his broadsword and smashed the half-empty bottle as if he were hitting it with a club. The table underneath it was nearly split in half, too.

The door to the office opened, and a distressed-looking Ballantyne dashed in. The ferret cursed inwardly; he had forgotten that the first creature who would discover Regner's body would be Deathblaze. Luckily, he had reached the stoat in time.

Deathblaze reared up, completely blinded in his fury. Ballantyne drew his small circular time measurer as if he were drawing a weapon, and began to slowly swing it back and forth by the shiny golden chain. It had been a treatment the ferret had designed himself in order to calm down Deathblaze when he got into these insane bursts of anger. Deathblaze turned, captivated by the slow, gentle rocking of the instrument.

"Sir Deathblaze, calm down, I implore you. If you engage in such a furor here, the castle will be devastated. Remember, reason over impulse. Reason… over… impulse. Reason… over… impulse."

The bizarre chant was working; Deathblaze sheathed his sword again, the intense anger fading away, draining from his eyes. He took slower breaths. "Now, please relate to me the situation that caused you to allow your emotions to run so rampant."

Deathblaze attempted to collect his thoughts; they were racing around his head too fast for him to get them organized. "Dead! Regner is dead! It was Golding, I know, I know, I know!" The anger began to rise again. Ballantyne continued the swaying of the copper instrument. Deathblaze calmed down again.

"Now, please try to maintain your temper, Sire Deathblaze. It is of vital importance," Ballantyne exclaimed, "Now, you claim that Regner is dead, and that he has been murdered by Sir Golding. I must first perform an investigation and gather evidence in order to verify this claim."

The ferret surveyed the scene briefly. He touched Regner's neck, mocking the action of checking a pulse. He examined the splattered poison for a few moments, smelling it and swishing it around with his finger. He removed a handkerchief from one of his pockets and wiped the substance off.

"Hmm…" Ballantyne began, "Yes, it appears that Lord Regner the Magnificent is deceased. According to my astute calculations, he ingested a toxin that could only have come from this puddle on the table. However… It is dubious to whether or not Golding is the perpetrator."

"Dubious?!" Deathblaze shouted. Ballantyne wished the stoat didn't feel the need to shout so often. "Dubious means that it's certain, right?!"

"Unfortunately, no," Ballantyne replied, "It means that it is questionable. It means that it is… uncertain. The evidence at the crime scene indicates that the assassin was actually… A Long Patrol hare!"

"WHAT?!" Deathblaze bellowed. Ballantyne shielded his ears. "I'LL KILL THEM ALL!!!"

Ballantyne swayed the metal circle back and forth once again. Deathblaze took a little longer to calm down this time, but he eventually did. He always did.

"Now, now, now, Sir Deathblaze," Ballantyne reassured, "I have already devised a cunning plan in order to destroy the Long Patrol once and for all. However, it requires your complete cooperation with whatever I say, even though I am sure that you will undoubtedly find some aspects of the plan distasteful to you. Do you believe that you can follow my orders exactly?"

"Yes!" Deathblaze shouted, as if annoyed that Ballantyne would even question his loyalty.

"Excellent. Now, I require you to gather every single soldier in the fortress to the mess hall, including Golding and his companions. I will be there briefly, after I create a few burial arrangements for Lord Regner the Magnificent. Do you have faith in your ability to do that?"

"Yes!" Deathblaze shouted again.

"Then, off to your task. We must work quickly, as the Long Patrol may attempt to attack us when they believe us to be weak and structurally fractured."

Deathblaze dashed off. As the door closed behind him, Ballantyne breathed a sigh of relief. His plan was working perfectly so far. Now, for the next part of the scheme…

---

The stoat Taroll was lounging about the left wall, where he was stationed as a guard along with three of his messmates: two other stoats and a fox (one of the few foxes in the entire horde; Regner had held an extreme distrust of them ever since a fraud seer swindled a good deal of his gold). They were discussing whether or not Golding would ever formally rebel against their leader, as they all knew he was already rebelling unofficially, when Ballantyne seemed to materialize out of thin air. The four saluted smartly but groaned internally at the arrival of the much-hated tactician.

Ballantyne had picked Taroll and his friends for this job specifically. Not only were they loyal and good at following orders, and they weren't aligned with Golding in any way, but they were also illiterate. That was perhaps the most important aspect, as loyalty could always change very quickly, but the inability to read could not.

"Hello, soldiers," Ballantyne announced cheerily, "I'm afraid that I have distressing news. It appears that Lord Regner the Magnificent has been assassinated by the Long Patrol." The four gave no reaction. They cared about Regner as much as they cared about Golding: That is, not at all. Ballantyne continued, "Your orders are to bury Lord Regner the Magnificent."

"That's it?" asked Taroll.

"Not exactly," Ballantyne interjected, "Lord Regner the Magnificent, in his last will and testament, decided on an exact spot in which he would prefer to be buried. Unfortunately, that location is a far distance from here. Follow me to Regner's office, and I will inform you of the path you must take in greater detail."

Reluctantly, the four followed the ferret to the room where Regner lay. As they passed by the mess hall, Ballantyne heard a pulsation of noise from behind the doors, and smiled, knowing that Deathblaze was performing his task excellently. They came to Regner's office, and stepped inside.

"What happened to the table?" asked one of Taroll's friends.

"I am unsure at the moment," replied the tactician, "But it is of no difference. Here, come view this map." Ballantyne unraveled one of the self-made maps and placed it on the part of the desk that had not been soaked by the remnants of the poison. "As you can see here, just east of this fortress is a stream. You are required to take Regner's body up past this stream, to where these two hills create a sort of pass. Do you understand?"

"That's a long way," Taroll pointed out.

"Yes, I am aware of this fact. However, you should consider yourselves fortunate. While you simply carry a body to this spot, the rest of the horde will be partaking in vicious, bloody battles against the Long Patrol. You will be perfectly safe from any harm that might befall you in these battles."

Taroll and his friends looked at each other. That was a good deal. Let all the other hordebeasts fight and die. They'd be safe.

"Sure, we'll do that," Taroll replied.

Ballantyne smiled. Perfect. "Excellent. You shall depart immediately. Oh, and one last article needs to be discussed." Ballantyne pulled a decently-sized folded piece of parchment out of his pocket. "This is a eulogy that I brilliantly composed for Lord Regner the Magnificent's funeral. By no means do you read this composition, although, as I am aware, you are illiterate, so you would not receive much value from the contents of this letter anyways. I will simply tuck this note in Lord Regner the Magnificent's armor, like this. There. Make sure this not is not dislodged or lost. This is of vital importance. Now, please depart."

The four of them eagerly picked up Regner's body, not wanting to have to engage in any sort of battle.

"Oh, and please bring Lord Regner the Magnificent's axe along with you," Ballantyne concluded as he walked out the door, "It was of much sentimental value to him, and I am certain that he would wish to be buried along with it. Oh, and know that if you decide to leave Lord Regner's body out in some ditch or drop him into the stream, I _will _know."

Ballantyne finally departed, taking a deep breath after having said so much. The second aspect of his plan had been successfully completed.

* * *

**Author's Note: If you know your mental disorders, you may be able to pick out all the myriad of things that Deathblaze is afflicted with, and if you can do that, you may start to find that some of the disorders don't even make any sense when paired together. Deathblaze likes to blame things on his family, but you'll find out later that he was screwed up, even before then...**


	18. The Truce

**Author's Note: Warrior: Actually, of the five disorders you mentioned, only one applies to Deathblaze (that one being bipolar; note the "racing thoughts"). Most of Deathblaze's problems really are geared more towards social problems, as evidenced in this chapter.**

**By the way, I suddenly got an explosion of hits (well, a relative explosion: I went from about 7 hits a chapter to 15 a chapter), but I didn't get any more reviewers. I may not say it in my summary or anything, but I, like most other people here, likes reviews. Just so you know. ;)**

* * *

XVIII: The Truce 

Deathblaze was nervous. He always got nervous whenever he had to talk to others, and he got especially nervous when he had to talk to large groups, such as the one he had gathered in the mess hall on Ballantyne's request. Standing in the shadows and looking intimidating was easy; he _knew _he could intimidate. But public speaking was not his forte by any means. He didn't even know what to say. Ballantyne hadn't said to say anything. Maybe he shouldn't say anything. Deathblaze's thoughts were racing.

The stoat spotted Golding at the other side of them room. Ballantyne had said that it was the Long Patrol, not the scout commander, that had assassinated Regner, and Deathblaze didn't doubt a single word Ballantyne said, but…

But…

Deathblaze forgot what he had been thinking about; it had been lost in a blur of mental exclamations. He continued to stand silently, alone underneath the tapestry of Regner. Not a single hordebeast dared draw near.

The mess hall doors opened; Ballantyne walked in, casting a false somber expression that didn't suit him very well, as Ballantyne didn't show emotion to others or himself (he seemed to have effectively created a wall, blocking out his thoughts and feelings). The chatter and discussion between the vermin died down nearly instantly. If anybeast knew what was going on, it would be Regner's head tactician.

Even though the room was mostly silent, Ballantyne held up a paw for order. The room became eerily silent, not because of any respect for the ferret, as there was none, but because of the horde's curiosity.

"My fellow compatriots, be you ferrets, stoats, weasels, rats, or foxes, I implore you to listen carefully to what I must, as my duty requires, articulate to you now," announced Ballantyne elegantly, his voice carrying to every corner of the hall, "We have been forced into a particularly dire predicament. Unfortunately, Sir Deathblaze discovered this morn that Lord Regner the Magnificent, who led us so well and justly, has been promptly assassinated."

There was a sudden explosion of noise as the vermin all began shouting things all over the room. Ballantyne had expected this. Yes, let them vent. Let their anger rise. Ballantyne knew, from his experience with Deathblaze, that when creatures became infuriated, they also became impulsive and rash.

Golding's voice rose above the others, even from the back of the room. Both he and Ballantyne were excellent orators. "So, Ballantyne, I guess yer gonna claim it was me who killed the weasel, ain't ya?"

Ballantyne chose not to reply over the roar of the crowd. He held up his paw for silence again. It died down gradually, after perhaps a few minutes.

"While I hold nothing but contempt for you, Scout Commander Golding, and I would absolutely enjoy forcing the blame upon you and finally rid you once and for all from this grand fortress, my fair and just nature will not allow me to partake in such slander. According to the extensive evidence that I have uncovered at the scene of the crime, I have deduced that it was not Scout Commander Golding who was the assassin, but rather a hare from the Long Patrol!"

Another uproar rose. Ballantyne was not going to attempt to quell this one. It's festering would only prove to be beneficial to him.

"The Long Patrol?! Those gutless cowards!"

"There wasn't no way they could take on Regner in a fight, so they had ta stab him in the back!"

"We oughtta burn every last one of 'em!"

"I say we put me in charge, an' we'll march up to their big ol' mountain and smash it to the ground!" shouted Golding, suddenly jumping on top of a table and drawing his saber. Excellent, Ballantyne thought to himself, Golding was playing into this perfectly. Of course, he hadn't really expected the weasel not to. Ballantyne knew Golding very well, and knew that the scout commander wouldn't be able to resist such an opportunity to take power. His close circle of trusted friends was already shouting "Long live Lord Golding the Great!" amongst the crowd.

"Of course," continued Golding, walking slowly down the table towards Ballantyne, "We'd have to see what the master tactician here has to say 'bout that plan. Y'know we hafta have his full approval before rushin' off like that. So, what say you, O brilliant genius?"

"I actually put great faith in that idea, Sir Golding," Ballantyne replied, much to Golding's great shock.

"I don't trust ya one bit. Wot's the catch?"

"The catch is that you must adhere to my advice as a tactician," Ballantyne explained. Golding looked at him skeptically.

"No, no, no. There ain't no way you'd just let me be in charge, and there ain't no way Deathblaze would either. Yer up to sumthin', I know it."

"Allow me to explain," replied the ferret, "I plead for a truce. It is no great secret that we harbor intense dislike towards each other, but I believe we should put these differences beside us so that we could focus on the far greater enemy: The Long Patrol. Your natural leadership skills, coupled with my tactical brilliance, will surely allow us to vanquish those despicable hares from this realm forever. After we have done so, I propose that we go our separate ways; I shall return here, to Castle Regner, and you shall be able to live in the Long Patrol's mountain, Salamandastron. Please do note that I still despise you, I just despise the Long Patrol more. I am not making this proposal out of my own sheer kindness."

Golding pondered this for a moment. The ferret, as much as he hated to admit it, was right. Golding would be able to make much use of his skills as a tactician. Then, after he defeated the Long Patrol, he could always kill the ferret and have both Castle Regner _and _Salamandastron. There was one question left, however.

"Fine, that seems reasonable. What about Deathblaze, though? I don't want him killin' me or nothing." Golding looked around the room apprehensively for the stoat in question.

"I can restrain Sir Deathblaze, and quite easily. That is not an issue," Ballantyne announced, "Watch as I do so this instant. Deathblaze, halt!"

Golding turned. Just behind him was Deathblaze, his sword raised, ready to strike the weasel down. The scout commander froze in terror for a split second, and then realized that Deathblaze was unmoving.

"I see," Golding responded meekly, "Fine. But I'm gonna be in charge, which means I get the final say on all yer plans, okay?"

"As you wish," Ballantyne said agreeably, motioning for Deathblaze to retreat back into his little section of the room underneath the tapestry of Regner.

"Also, since we're gonna be marchin' up to Salamandastron, and we _will _be marchin', I don't care what ya say 'bout that, I'm gonna need cap'ns. And I'm gonna choose who they are myself, ya got that?"

"As you wish."

"Great, then. In fact, I'll choose my cap'ns right now. Hairmold, yer gonna be my second-in-command. Amora, yer gonna be my third-in-command, in case I ever need one."

"What?!" shouted Valla, Amora's twin sister, "Why is she third-in-command an' not me?"

"Ah, shut yer trap," Golding shouted back, "She's easier on the eyes. Yew can be fourth-in-command, I guess."

Valla looked absolutely miserable, but didn't decline the offer to be fourth-in-command (and she didn't question how her identical twin sister could possibly look better than her). Embarrassed, she slowly made her way towards the back of room.

"An' the lizards," Golding continued, "The two lizards in charge will be my fifth- an' sixth-in-command, just in case I ever need a fifth- an' sixth-in-command. That should do it fer my cap'ns. Just remember, anybeast else from my group of mateys is automatically higher in command than the rest of yew lot. Now, is that all right for yew, Ballantyne?"

The ferret simply shrugged. "It is your decision, not mine, as according to the rules of the truce."

"Ah, yeah, 'bout that truce, we gotta confirm it," Golding suddenly said, as if just remembering. He walked towards Ballantyne, spat in his paw, and held it out. Ballantyne looked down at the grimy paw in absolute terror, shying away from it. "What's yer problem?" Golding growled, "Spit on yer paw an' we shake."

"Um…" Ballantyne stepped back, "How about we confirm the truce in the form of a legally binding document?"

The entire mess hall erupted into laughter. Ballantyne frowned. Golding reached forward and snatched the ferret's paw, then shook it overdramatically. The laughter increased tenfold as a mortified expression appeared on Ballantyne's face. When Golding released his paw, the tactician swiftly made his departure, no doubt to cleanse off Golding's saliva.

After Ballantyne had left, Hairmold whispered to Golding, "Ya think we can trust him?"

"Yeah, right," Golding laughed, still looking amused, "I trust him as far as I can throw him, which ain't very far. He's up to sumthin', I just know it. I dunno wot he's up to exactly, but I'll find out. I ain't no fool."

---

The mess hall had erupted not into mourning, but celebration. Golding promised them the chance to finally destroy the Long Patrol once and for all. None of the lizards knew that the Long Patrol was the name of the army that had nearly slaughtered all of them, but they celebrated anyways.

The lizards had been horribly naïve to their situation. Other than Golding, who was being friendly to them simply because he felt their power would be a great asset to his now-defunct cause, not a single creature even approached them. Of course, the lizards neither noticed nor cared. After a season or so of aimless wandering, they had finally gotten back into some sort of military again.

The only lizard who had an idea of what was going on was Kalzmar. After the lizards had fled from Redwall, she had really just been in charge in title. She never made any decisions, instead leaving them all up to Corzon (a scary thought, which explained the aimless wandering). She was plagued by progressively worse nightmares, with King Kirrent chasing after her. Sometimes Marclaw was in her dreams as well, also missing his head, searching for his lost sword. And Davian sometimes showed up too, endlessly falling from the great red walls.

These constant, nagging dreams caused her to grow reclusive. The other lizards seemed as if they didn't even remember what had happened, how their entire race had been conquered by King Kirrent the Great and then sent to die. Kalzmar remembered when King Kirrent, losing his temper, had had the lizards charge the hares, and then retreated himself.

No, Kalzmar held no regret for what she had done to King Kirrent. But there was always the thought: Maybe, just maybe, if King Kirrent hadn't died then, and Marclaw hadn't taken over, then maybe they might have been able to beat the hares. Maybe almost all of them wouldn't be dead. Kalzmar was ignorant to the fact that there was never a chance for the lizards against the entire force of the Long Patrol.

Golding climbed back up onto his table, towering above the horde. Regner was dead; that was okay. Kalzmar had hardly met him, and from what she had seen, he wasn't the sanest of creatures. Golding had instantly gone to their aid once they had been forced into service, making sure nobeast gave them any grief. The fact that he was in charge was at least one thing that was going right.

"We're gonna start marchin' tomorrer, ya got that?" shouted Golding confidently, "We're gonna show those longears who's boss! We'll destroy 'em all!!"

The crowd cheered. Golding cast a glance over to the spot under the tapestry. Deathblaze had departed, no doubt after Ballantyne. The former scout commander hoped that the little charade in which the stoat had snuck up behind him was just a ploy. It wasn't good to have Deathblaze wanting you dead.


	19. The Resurrection

**Author's Note: This chapter and the one after it are probably two of the shortest chapters in the entire fic, but after them, every chapter is generally pretty long. This chapter's pretty interesting despite being so short, I guess.**

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XIX: The Resurrection

Taroll and his three friends were getting tired of dragging Regner's body past the stream, following Ballantyne's directions exactly. They had thought about just dumping the body, but they al figured Ballantyne had calculated the exact time they would return from the task, and would know when they came back at the wrong time. It was something the tactician would do, they knew it.

"The spot where Ballantyne said ta bury him oughtta be comin' up soon," Taroll announced dully, "I know the place, where the two hills make a pass. It ain't too far from here."

The four had taken turns carrying Regner. Now, the two other stoats were the ones that had to drag the weasel's body along. "Can we take a rest, then?" cried one of them, a young creature named Sawdirge, "I'm tired, an' hungry."

"Fine by me," Taroll shrugged. The two stoats dropped Regner and the four all opened up their packs, looking for something good to eat.

"So," said the fox, a laid-back character named Alsten, "I betcha when we git back ta the castle, ol' Deathblaze will have jus' up an' killed everybeast. I 'spect he'll be roving 'round the place, shoutin' an' all, holdin' up Golding's head fer all ta see."

"Nah," Taroll replied, "Deathblaze could prob'ly take out a whole lot of 'em, but Golding's got too many on his side. They'll have taken the ol' stoat down, an' Ballantyne too. Though I don't 'spect much of 'em to be left afterwards, of course."

"Ballantyne's too clever ta git himself killed so easily," interjected the last of the four, named Levail, "He's prob'ly got some sort of big plan or sumthin', usin' Deathblaze as a threat to keep Golding an' his cronies at bay."

The four began to argue, throwing out their opinions on what state the castle would be in when they returned and placing bets. They were so engrossed in this that none of them even noticed when Regner, whose body they had haphazardly thrown onto the ground, began to rise. The weasel wore a blank, confused expression on his face, and his head hurt. What had happened?

"Um…" moaned the resurrected warlord meekly. Taroll and his friends didn't hear. Memory began to return to Regner slowly; he knew his name, and he knew he was the great ruler of Castle Regner, and he remembered Golding and Deathblaze and Ballantyne…

Ah, yes. It had been Ballantyne. Ballantyne had poisoned him! That traitorous ferret! Well, Regner mused, it took more than poison to kill him! Ballantyne would soon realize that mistake.

The weasel recognized Taroll and his friends, as well. They were good soldiers, loyal and obedient. That was good, he would need them to reclaim his army from the foul clutches of that ferret!

"Taroll!!" shouted Regner. The four instantly froze, and slowly turned to look at their warlord, who had seemingly risen from the grave. They all held mortified expressions on their face.

"Is this some kinda dream?" murmured Sawdirge, mostly to himself.

"No!" Regner shouted, hearing the unfortunate comment, "I am alive! That idiot Ballantyne may think he could kill me, but I'm too powerful for poison! I am Regner the Magnificent!"

"Ballantyne told us that the Long Patrol poisoned yew," Taroll said.

"Then he lied! It's not like it's impossible to lie, y'know!" Regner spat. The four all looked bewildered. "And what's this piece of paper tucked into my armor?!"

The weasel pulled out the note that Ballantyne had claimed was a eulogy. In the flowery, elaborate handwriting that could only be the tactician's, the words "To Lord Regner the Magnificent" were scrawled. Regner unfolded the note. Another piece of folded paper dropped out; Regner recognized it to be one of Ballantyne's hand-drawn maps. There was also writing on the inside of the note, which Regner read aloud.

"To Lord Regner the Magnificent," recited the warlord, "It is my deepest apologies that you had to endure what you must have thought would surely be your death, but you were so impulsive when reaching for your axe that you, in all truth, left me no time to explain the matter further. You see, the toxin you ingested was not fatal; rather, it would simply give the impression that you were deceased. This is instrumental to my grand scheme, in which victory over both the Long Patrol and Scout Commander Golding is assured. You see, with you supposedly deceased, Golding will no doubt seize control of the horde. Due to my clever wordplay and undeniable skills in the art of persuasion, I will very efficiently be able steer the horde to march towards Salamandastron, prepared for war. I will then dress Golding in the same fashion as you, my lord, and deploy him as a form of bait for the Long Patrol. They will be tantalized by the prospect of slaying you once and for all, and I have no doubt that the complete and entire force will charge at the unsuspecting Golding immediately. From there, a force led by Deathblaze will simply waltz right into the mountain, effectively capturing it. From this vantage point, it will only be a small amount of time before we are able to eradicate the hares, as well as there nefarious leader, Lord Oxpaw. Now, for your instructions. Enclosed in the interior of this letter is a map of my own creation. While it ails me so to have to mark this vessel of my genius, I must do so. Follow the marked pathway on the map, and wait for me at the exact place I direct you to. You will find that, by that point in time, the defeat of the Long Patrol should be under way. Sincerely, your loyal subject, Ballantyne."

Regner frowned. He was both glad and annoyed by this note. He was happy that he wouldn't have to strike down Ballantyne; they had been friends for a very long time, and the only reason Regner was a warlord in the first place was because of the tactician. He was annoyed at how Ballantyne had simply done this without consultation. Sure, Regner approved anything the ferret said (including this), but he still liked to know exactly what he was getting into. And the prospect of Golding being in control of _his _horde, albeit for a brief period in time, was very unnerving.

"Wait… so what's all that gibberish mean?" asked Alsten the fox.

"It means," Regner said, "That Ballantyne didn't betray me, and that he's going to kill the Long Patrol and Golding. What do you think it meant, idiot?!"

The four all shrugged. "Nothing Ballantyne says ever makes no sense," pointed out Levail.

"Whatever," Regner growled, "You all must have at least heard the part about following the map, right?" The four nodded. Regner continued quickly, "Good. Because we're going to follow that map. Ballantyne promises that he'll be taking over Salamandastron when we get there, so let's not waste time, okay?"

Taroll and his friends didn't care much for Regner, but they sure liked the idea of living in Salamandastron a whole lot. Regner, with his small group of loyal soldiers, swiftly departed, following the path that Ballantyne had marked for them on the small, folded map.

---

A young mousemaid watched the five leave. Those were the ones Martin had told her to follow, she was certain of it. "A warlord returned from the grave…" she spoke, reciting the riddle that the warrior mouse had whispered to her in her sleep. Clenching Martin's sword tightly, she slowly went after them, making sure to keep her distance.

What had started off as a big fib had turned into something deathly serious. The mousemaid, a hot-tempered creature, had become fed up with the hum-drum life at Redwall shortly after the lizards had been routed. So, she had told everybeast there that Martin had told her that she was the abbey champion and must go on a great journey.

That, of course, had been a lie. But it had worked. The abbot had sent her on her way, along with plenty of food and the sword of Martin the Warrior. And so she had departed, hoping to find a life of adventure and heroism, as opposed to the life of chores and boredom at the abbey.

It had started out great. Mossflower wasn't as vermin-laden as it had been in previous seasons, mainly because the Long Patrol had forced most of them to live reclusive, hidden lives. She was never bothered, and she had fun.

But then Martin the Warrior really _did _come to her in a dream. He had murmured a long, intricate riddle and claimed that the situation was dire, and since she had the Sword of Martin she was the only hope. The only hope of what, she did not know. But now, listening to the vile-looking weasel that had apparently sprung back to life, she realized that she was the only hope for Salamandastron.

Trying to decipher the riddle Martin had told her as well as she could, the mousemaid stalked the warlord returned from the grave, afraid, alone, and unsure.


	20. The March

**Author's Note: For starters, the mousemaid is not named yet for a reaosn that you'll fnd out later on in the part, when she is named.**

**Next, I have a lot to say to Warrior. First, I have a feeling that you may be disappointed. The mousemaid doesn't return until the last three chapters of this part, and even then, you'll find something very abnormal about her when you compare her to the heroes of the actual series. There are two other good guys re-introduced a few more chapter farther into the story, who you may or may not find interesting. They have some strange outlooks on morality, though. A "greater good" complex, if you will.**

**Secondly, the problem that I have always felt with Part II was the very small amount of characters. By the end of the part, I was very tired of writing for Ballantyne and his strenuous vocabulary. Luckily, this problem is rectified in Part III, where there is a large, diverse cast of personalities that keep the first four "setting up" chapters interesting.**

**Thirdly, the whole point of this story is that it is told through the point of view of what normally would be the antagonists. I, personally, have found all the heroes in the actual series to be rather boring. I've always read Redwall for the villains (and, more specifically, the minor villains, because you never know when they're going to die. It's also pretty interesting trying to predict the one or two that actually live in the end from the outset of the story, but, um, that's just me), thusly, my fanfiction about Redwall would correlate to that. If that isn't the kind of thing you want to read, I don't blame you for not wanting to continue reading. It's all up to you.**

**Anyways, filler chapter. On a lighter note, it's the last short chapter in the entire fic! Yay! After this, it's about 20 chapters of length and awesomeness! Which, by extension, means very few filler left; I can't for the life of me draw filler out very far.**

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XX: The March

Golding had wasted no time getting the horde ready to march. The former scout commander had been dreaming of the day when he would finally be in charge, planning out exactly what he would do in his mind. And now, here he was, in charge. Getting rid of Ballantyne and Deathblaze would have to wait until he could afford to lose a good amount of soldiers, but otherwise, everything was perfect. Just how he had envisioned it. His father would be proud of him, he knew it.

The entire horde, approximately three hundred or so assorted rats, weasels, stoats, and ferrets, with the occasional fox, were all organized into divisions and columns and rows in front of the castle. That was Ballantyne's doing; Golding cared not for organization. However, the weasel wasn't about to complain.

The horde itself looked absolutely stunning. Every creature was equipped with clean, polished armor and weapons, and all stood at attention perfectly. The thought that every single one was awaiting Golding's orders made him smile with glee. He was in command, Regner was dead, and he was about to conquer Salamandastron.

From the castle appeared Ballantyne, flanked by Deathblaze. The two slowly made their way past the horde, towards Golding. Ballantyne was dressed in a black coat and top hat, looking as if he were attending some sort of funeral. He walked with a cane that Golding knew he didn't need.

"How ya plannin' to march in those clothes?" Golding called out to him, "This iddn't no pleasure walk, I can tell ya that." Ballantyne slowly meandered his way past the horde before deciding to answer.

"As a representative of this grand army, I mustn't allow myself to appear disorderly," explained the ferret, "I must appear composed and profound, much like you, or else our foes may think us laughable. That is exactly why I made perfectly sure all armor and weapons were polished and sharpened, respectively."

Golding said nothing. It was true; he had also decided to dress himself in a way befitting of a warlord. He had even gone so far as to have raided Regner's wardrobe. The former leader had been carried off to his grave in his best armor, but he still had other pieces that Golding found fit him well.

"Ah, yes, I see you understand," Ballantyne smiled, "Now, do not worry about me. I will be perfectly able to keep up the pace with the rest of the horde. I may not be able to use a weapon of any sort, but that doesn't necessarily mean that I am deposed to a sloth-like state, not by any means."

"Yeah, I guess," Golding murmured, "Now, can we start marchin' now? I wanna leave before any Long Patrol spies see what's up."

"As do I," Ballantyne agreed, "Which is exactly the reason why Sir Deathblaze behind me here will be our scout. His tracking skills, like his battle prowess, are top-notch, as I'm sure you are aware."

Golding glanced over at the captain of the guard, but Deathblaze said nothing. "Yeah, I'll agree with that. Now, um, can we start marchin'?"

"You are in charge here; I merely give tactical advice. If you wish to march, then you can, with no qualms from me," Ballantyne said, adjusting his monocle slightly.

Then the march towards Salamandastron began.

---

The marc towards Salamandastron progressed smoothly. The horde marched the entire day, with Golding leading, a long, flowing cape following him. Ballantyne, as he promised, did keep up, and Golding saw neither head nor tail of Deathblaze. They marched through forests, fields, and flatlands, up hills and down valleys. After a long, hard day of walking, the sun began to set, and Golding called for them to set up a camp for the night.

Golding sat by a fire, eating a fish that one of the soldiers had caught in a nearby stream. On the other side of the blaze was Ballantyne, delicately munching on an apple. The two said nothing to each other, and they both seemed to know that the other was plotting behind their back.

Hairmold walked up to the former scout commander and made his report. "Sir, we set up camp without no difficulty. I got the lizards in command of sentry duty. Valla an' Amora are out by that stream, fishin'. Nuttin's wrong, an' everythin's fine."

"Great," Golding replied, taking a hearty bite out of his fish. Golding loved fish; it was his favorite food. "Go an' get sumthin' to eat, ya look 'ungry."

"Aye, sir," Hairmold replied, saluting smartly. He then departed quickly. Golding resumed his meal.

"So, where's Deathblaze?" the weasel asked Ballantyne, his mouth filled with fish, "I don't like it when I don't know what he's doin'."

"As I said, he was guarding the rear of the horde, in case we were being watched. I expect him to make his report fairly soon," Ballantyne replied, making sure to swallow his bite of apple before speaking.

The two were silent again, with the only sounds being that of the other hordebeasts that were enjoying their meals as well and the crackling of the fire. Golding finished his fish, and cast the bones into the flames. Ballantyne did likewise with the core of his apple. Neither spoke another word.

Then Deathblaze returned, materializing out of the shadows right behind Ballantyne. Golding was taken aback by his sudden appearance, and slouched back. The stoat was wiping blood off of his large broadsword, adding to Golding's apprehension immensely. Deathblaze did not speak until all of the blood had been removed from his blade.

"There were eight hares," Deathblaze announced, trying to sound casual but failing, "I don't know if they saw us or not, but they were marching around. I slew them all." The large sword was shoved back into its equally large sheath with a loud, ear-piercing screech. Golding flinched. Ironically enough, Deathblaze was just as nervous as the former scout commander.

Ballantyne smiled, the light of the fire reflecting off of his monocle in all different directions. The ferret didn't even bother to turn around as he made his reply. "Quite excellent, Sir Deathblaze, if I do say so myself. Now, if you please, would you join us? I have conceived a brilliant plan to destroy the Long Patrol, and I wish you to be present to hear it."

Reluctantly, Deathblaze sat down. He desperately wanted to avoid social situations, even when there were only two other creatures there.

"So, ya got a plan, eh?" Golding said, looking nervously at Deathblaze, "Let me hear it."

"Yes, yes," Ballantyne responded, "It goes like this. Salamandastron is positioned on a large beach, no? Of course it is. At the end of this beach is a forest. The main force will wait just at the end of this forest. Then, two separate forces, one led by you and the other by me, will march to the left and right of the mountain. Deathblaze will head the main force. He will charge Salamandastron. Then, our dual forces will reinforce him, charging in from the two sides, effectively creating a pincher maneuver on the Long Patrol."

Golding listened to the plan intently. Yes… Let Deathblaze lead the charge on the Long Patrol. He would no doubt be killed. Then poor little Ballantyne will have nobeast to protect him when Golding conquered Salamandastron. Ballantyne didn't know just how much his plan fit into Golding's plans. And Golding didn't know that Ballantyne's plans weren't exactly the same as the ones the ferret had just told him.

"I like it," sneered the weasel, "Those dumb hares won't even know wot hit 'em. Heheheh!" Golding snickered his usual, annoying laugh.

Ballantyne smiled as well. Yes, those dumb hares won't know what hit them… and neither would Golding. The plan was going along just perfectly.


	21. The Trick

**Author's Note: Awsomewriter: Uh, last chapter wasn't the last one in Part II. The last chapter in this part is actually 26. Each part is 13 chapters long, you see?**

**Also, from now on, every single chapter has considerably more length than most chapters prior. I believe at this point in the story, I had an average of 4 pages per chapter in MS Word, with the longest chapter being the Part I finale with about 6 pages. The latter half of the story- the next 20 chapters- has an average of 6.5 pages per chapter, with the longest chapter being the Part III finale with a whopping 10 pages (and maybe more, as I plan on revising some of that chapter).**

**This also means that there's very little filler from now on, as I can only write in length if stuff is actually happening. . **

**By the way, Warrior may like this chapter, as I re-introduce two heroic characters from before. However, you may notice that one of them has substancially changed... (the other was really minor in Part I, so I can't say the same about him).**

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XXI: The Trick 

Regner and his four subordinates had followed Ballantyne's path exactly, and now they stood on the precise spot that the tactician had marked with a neat, black X, which was behind a sand dune decently close to Salamandastron. The weasel lord was not in the best of moods. Ballantyne had promised that Salamandastron would be in the process of being taken over when the warlord arrived, but the mountain stood firm and tall, without any sign of chaos anywhere. If Ballantyne had messed up, Regner didn't know what he'd do.

The ferret made good plans, and he made them consistently, and usually even on demand, but they were always so completely overcomplicated. Regner doubted that the faking of the assassination was actually necessary. There probably would have been a very simple, obvious path around it.

The problem with Ballantyne was that he'd think of a plan that he'd like very much, and _that _plan probably incorporated Regner's assassination in it very well. But then Ballantyne would realize errors in his plans and revise it to a point where the assassination wouldn't be needed. However, Ballantyne would keep all of those ideas intact. It was a very confusing thing to do, but it was how Ballantyne's mind worked, and Regner had no choice but to respect that. He owed everything to Ballantyne. The weasel had been completely unknown until he met the traveling tactician many seasons ago. Then Ballantyne had explained the ways of propaganda and advertisement, and that was how the great horde of Regner the Magnificent started.

Truth be told, Regner wasn't particularly magnificent. He was an above average fighter, and pretty strong, but he wasn't anything special. Deathblaze was the kind of warrior that would be able to rally a horde just due to his own fighting prowess; Regner had always been glad that Deathblaze had never challenged his leadership, because the captain of the guard would definitely prevail in a fight.

Regner was snapped out of his thoughts as the stoat Sawdirge leapt over the top of the sand dune and slid down the slope, stopping right in front of the warlord. Sawdirge was out of breath, and panting heavily. Regner had sent him out as a scout to search for Ballantyne and the rest of the horde.

"I got pretty close ta the mountain," Sawdirge panted, "Yeah, there's still longears there, I saw two of 'em guardin' the front door. I don't think they saw me, else they'd be runnin' at us now. I didn't see Ballantyne or any of them anywhere, though."

Regner growled. Sawdirge slunk back, but Regner wasn't angry at him. He was angry at Ballantyne. The longer he stood out here, the more likely it was that some Long Patrol hares would go out and see them. He began to pace around nervously, using his large battle axe like some sort of walking stick. Taroll and his three friends simply watched him, as if amused by the spectacle. Regner glared at them, and they all averted their gazes immediately.

They lazed around for a while longer, doing nothing. They were on a long beach, sand everywhere. The beach ended at the exact spot where a forest began, farther off. Regner suddenly realized that if Ballantyne had arrived, he would have concealed his army in that forest. Regner chastised himself for not realizing that sooner. Here he was, brooding and becoming angrier and angrier, when it was incredibly likely that Ballantyne was just behind those trees.

"Hey," the weasel shouted to Sawdirge, who had sat down in the sand, "Go out to those woods. I bet that's where my army is, along with Ballantyne and Deathblaze."

"I jus' ran up ta the mountain," Sawdirge protested, "Why don'tcha send Levail up there or sumthin'?" Sawdirge pointed to his fellow stoat, Levail. Levail looked as if he was about to say something in return, but at that moment, Alsten the fox pointed over the side of the sand dune.

"'Ey, look!" shouted Alsten, "It's Golding!"

Regner trudged up to the top of the dune swiftly, followed by Taroll and the other two stoats. Peeking their heads over the dune carefully, they all watched as Scout Commander Golding marched out of the forest far away, on the other side of the mountain. Even though he was hardly visible at that distance, it was, without any doubt, Golding. Regner noticed that Golding was also wearing his armor, and scowled.

Golding was followed by about forty or so assorted vermin. He marched proudly, his saber drawn. Undaunted, he climbed to the top of a giant dune, and stopped, with the other vermin all forming up behind him.

"Wot's he doin'?" asked Taroll inquisitively, "Don't he know that the Long Patrol can see him from there?"

A familiar voice rang out behind them. "Actually, Sir Golding is completely ignorant to that fact. This is quite fortunate, as my master plan hinges upon it." Regner and the other turned around, and found themselves face-to-face with a solitary Ballantyne. The ferret bowed elaborately.

"Ballantyne!" Regner growled, "Why did you have to do this whole plan without telling me?! I thought I was dead!" He looked at the ferret with some intrigue. How did he just appear like that? He knew that the tactician enjoyed making dramatic entrances, but sometimes he was a little over-the-top in the times and locations he appeared at.

Ballantyne was unphased. "Well, My Lord, I attempted to tell you, but due to your impulsiveness when reaching for your axe, I am afraid I was allotted absolutely no time to inform you of my plan. That was why I wrote you that letter, which I am assuming you received with no qualms, correct?"

Regner frowned. "I still would have liked to know what you were planning on doing before you just poisoned me like that. I mean, I have a few complaints about you letting Golding wear my armor and control my army."

"Exactly," Ballantyne replied, "You would have complained, argued, ordered me to alter my plans as such. But I assure you, if you had done so, then the plan would not have been anywhere near as effective as it has been so far. Thusly, I was forced to poison you so suddenly, and without warning."

Regner seriously doubted that it was completely necessary for Golding to wear his armor, but he said nothing on that matter. "So what's Golding doing now? Why's he standing out in the open like that?"

Ballantyne chuckled. "Sir Golding believes that he is going to reinforce Sir Deathblaze. I told him that both he and I would lead forces to the left and right of Salamandastron, and then perform a sort of three-pronged pincer attack on the mountain. However, I feel he will be in for a surprise when he realizes I led no such force and that Deathblaze has no intention of charging the stronghold without my signal. However, the Long Patrol will see him, and, believing him to be you, instantly mobilize their entire army to vanquish his 'horde'. Once they realize that it was merely a ploy, Deathblaze will already have moved into the unguarded mountain. I believe I told you all of this in my letter. Did you by any chance forget?"

The weasel warlord muttered something to himself about how the armor that Golding was wearing was going to be ruined, but it was primarily incomprehensible. Ballantyne smiled knowingly.

"Now, shall we view Golding's slaughter, My Lord?"

---

Inside Salamandastron, Lieutenant Tabbins dashed into the room of his superior, Colonel Caldwell. There was dire news.

Caldwell was sitting in a large oak chair, leaned over his desk. He was dressed in a pale gray that fit his morbid demeanor. The problem with King Kirrent and the lizards had troubled him immensely. In the end, there had been twenty-one dead Redwallers, as well as the three hares in his own squad that had been killed. Caldwell had taken the blame for it all himself, claiming that if he had just listened to Gavin and Maudy and taken more soldiers with him, all of those deaths could have been averted. Maybe that was true, maybe it wasn't. After hearing the whole story from Maudy, who told it to anybeast that would listen, Tabbins decided that the lizards had been able to conquer Redwall due to their own dumb luck, not because of a deficiency in soldiers assisting the colonel. However, Caldwell refused to listen.

"Sah," Tabbins announced, catching Caldwell's attention, "There's some bad news. That one weasel, Lord Wot's-his-face the Magnificent, just showed up to the right of us, along with forty vermin, all ready for combat."

The colonel rose, and turned around. The incident with King Kirrent had changed him not only emotionally. His face was badly scarred, and there was a long, curved hook where his paw should have been. If Tabbins didn't know better, he would have thought Caldwell had turned into a corsair.

"Why, please tell me, are you informing _me _of this?" Caldwell shot grimly, "Go tell Lord Oxpaw."

"Well, that's the thing, sah," the lieutenant looked down at his footpaws, "I think it's a trap. We all know that blinking weasel's got a bigger horde than the one he's got with him now, and that one ferret, the one that pretends to look like us, is noticeably absent. But if I told Oxpaw that, you know how he'd act, he jump right up and attack, trap or not. So, I can't tell him, not yet."

"Tabbins, I once did something without consulting Lord Oxpaw, and look where it got me!" Caldwell held out his iron hook, shaking it menacingly. Tabbins didn't flinch, however.

"Sah, please!" Tabbins shouted, "We need to go out and spring the trap. Or else Oxpaw will do something really stupid and get us all killed! The vermin's plan is to get him to do something stupid, and it's gonna work! You must be able to see this!"

Caldwell paused. Yes, he knew that Tabbins was right. Oxpaw was impulsive and explosive. Regner no doubt knew this. And yes, the plan seemed like a perfect way to exploit that weakness.

"Wot you're suggesting we do is probably suicide," Caldwell murmured, "Is that the reason you're talking to me? You think that I'll be willing to throw my life away to help Salamandastron?" Tabbins was silent. "Because if you are, then you're right."

"I have a good amount of hares who share those convictions," Tabbins muttered back, "All fresh new recruits looking for blood and glory."

There was a silence. Both of them knew the implications of this. Tabbins was going to exploit the new recruits' bloodlust to have them spring a trap. It was something neither of them, being honorable Long Patrol hares, should have ever even considered. But neither of them had ever really been honorable, and they both knew it.

"We're too immoral for this job," Caldwell said.

"No, only I am," Tabbins replied, "You've always genuinely cared about the lives of your soldiers. You've always been devastated whenever any of them have been slain. You're only going along with this now because you know that a lot more lives will be lost if you don't, aren't you?"

Caldwell was silent for a long time. Finally, he murmured back, "I assume that you'll be going along with me, yes?"

"Of course," Tabbins responded, nodding, "It's the least I can do. There's no way I could hide in here like a blinking coward while the rest of you die because of my plan."

"Good, then," Caldwell said, closing his eyes, "Then let's do this. For Salamandastron."

"For Salamandastron," Tabbins repeated. Then, the two of them went off, hoping that whatever they did would not be in vain.

---

Golding stood at the very top of his sand dune, holding his saber up proudly. Backing him were about forty of his personally selected soldiers. None of them were his captains, however. He had left them all with Deathblaze, in case Ballantyne tried anything funny. Unbeknownst to him, however, Ballantyne had tried something funny, but his dim-witted captains hadn't even noticed.

Ignorant of his impending doom, he scanned the mountain he was sure he was about to conquer. It looked very strong, a symbol of power and integrity. Golding loved the name: Salamandastron. It just rolled off of the tongue quickly and smoothly, each syllable flowing into the next flawlessly.

Golding wished his father were here to see him now. But no, Deathblaze had killed him in a humiliating duel a few seasons ago. The only regret Golding had about this plan was that he couldn't be the one who delivered the finishing blow to the crazed stoat.

"Golding!" exclaimed a meek-looking rat named Bugo, "We have trouble! Longears are marching towards us!"

Golding was suddenly snapped out of his thoughts. Hares? Where? Then he saw them, all pouring out of the mountain he intended to conquer. There were about twenty of them. Golding was no fool; he knew that the hares were immensely better trained than any of his soldiers, and they would be slaughtered. There was no way he could fight them and hope to win. Maybe he could send for help from Deathblaze—

And then it hit him. No wonder he had failed to see Ballantyne's group go to the left of the mountain; Ballantyne had no group. Deathblaze wasn't going to come to his aid. This had been the ferret's plan all along, to use him as… as…

Bait. The word rang out in Golding's head menacingly. Being a creature that enjoyed fishing, Golding knew the implications of that word. Sometimes the fisher got his catch, and sometimes the fish got away, but never did the bait come out victorious. In fact, most times, the bait was killed as soon as it was skewered on the hook and dropped into the water.

"No," Golding said blankly, "No. No, no, no, no, no. No!"

This couldn't be happening. He was so close to his goal now! He didn't care about the hares, they could keep their lousy mountain! Just let him go, so he could exact his revenge on Deathblaze and Ballantyne! No!!

Golding realized that he was crying. Shying away from his troops, he wiped his eyes with his paw. Then, the hares came to a halt. The one in the lead, who had a heavily scarred face and a hook where his paw should have been, began to speak.

Whatever he was going to say, Golding cut him off, crying out in a strangled sob. "I ain't Regner, okay? They set me up! They put me out here as bait!! Just let me go, please! Please!"

That was what Golding attempted to say, anyways. All that came out was a flood of tears and sobs. The hares below pointed and laughed, although the one in front held his somber expression.

Bit by bit, Golding began to get a hold on himself. He stopped crying, wiping the tears away from his bloodshot eyes. A plan was beginning to formulate in his mind. He could escape, and he knew how.

Without even bothering to hear whatever the hare below had to say, he held his saber forward and shouted, "CHARGE!!"

The forty or so vermin behind him, oblivious to their predicament, all rushed forward over the sand dune at the hares. They were met with arrows and spears. Golding, however, turned and ran in the opposite direction, away from the small army. Going down the dune, he tripped over his own cape and rolled down it in a heap. Wasting no time, he leapt back up, tearing the cape off of him, and continued his retreat.

The rat Bugo saw this. "'Ey, everybeast!" he shouted, "Golding's runnin' away! We gotta follow him, I bet he has a plan!" The vermin who had not been slain immediately began retreating as well, dashing after their leader.

Caldwell paused, turning to Tabbins. "Regner ran away… I wonder if maybe we messed up his plans."

Tabbins shrugged. "Let's find out," he replied. Then, the hares began dashing after the retreating vermin.

* * *

**I feel sorry for Caldwell. Every time he tries to do something right, he just makes it worse than it actually would have been...**

**One last thing I'd like you guys to notice is that Ballantyne's plan is incredibly half-baked. His Romeo & Juliet manuever may have seemed intelligent, but it really doesn't amount to much.**


	22. The Assassination

**Author's Note: This is one of my personal favorite chapters in the story, for a myriad of reasons. Mayhaps not the best written, but I had fun writing it. I'm a big fan of the crappy, low-budget Slasher Horror Films that premiere on the SciFi Channel every Saturday, so I make a brief nod to that in a scene with a couple of minor characters.**

**Oh, and Ballantyne gets pwnt. That's always fun.**

* * *

XXII: The Assassination

Ballantyne frowned. His plan had not gone as planned. The entirety of the Long Patrol was supposed to have gone after Golding, not just a small portion. The badger lord hadn't even left. Quickly, he racked his brain to think up some sort of plan that could override this problem.

"Stupid Golding!" Regner snarled, kicking some sand, "Why'd he have to run away? I was gonna enjoy watching him die." At least, Ballantyne thought to himself, the warlord hadn't begun to get angry because the plan was falling apart.

"So… Whadda we do now?" asked Taroll, "Didn't yew say that Deathblaze was gonna do sumthin' now or sumthin' like that?" Ballantyne shot him a glare for bringing the situation up.

Regner suddenly turned around. "Yeah, you said that all of the Long Patrol would be gone right now! That couldn't have been all of them! Maybe a good portion of them, but not all of them!"

"That is merely a minor inconvenience," Ballantyne held up his paws and stepped back, "I am absolutely sure that I can come up with a solution that will rectify this situation in not time at all."

"I don't see wot the problem is," shrugged Sawdirge, "Why don't we jus' attack 'em now, while their forces are split up an' all?" There was a murmur of agreement from the others, Regner included.

"Because!" Ballantyne shouted, "Because… the badger! We cannot just attack them while they have that gigantic monstrosity on their side! Not even Sir Deathblaze could match that brute in a fair duel! We would be slaughtered! Destroyed! Annihilated! There would be nothing left of us after we were foolish enough to fight that beast."

Regner was annoyed. If they had gone all this way just to be turned back now because of one defect in Ballantyne's plan, he would be furious to no end. At least he wouldn't have to worry about Golding if he ever went back, though… But, no. He couldn't turn back. He _wouldn't _turn back. Ballantyne better come up with a plan, and he better come up with it quickly.

Oddly enough, it wasn't Ballantyne who came up with the plan. It was the fox Alsten. "Wait, ya said there ain't no way ta kill this badger in a fair fight… How 'bout an unfair one? I say we sneak inta that mountain an' kill the stripedog while he's sleeping! Wot do they call it? An annassation or sumthin'!"

"An assassination…" Regner repeated correctly, pondering this. "That's… a great idea. Why didn't _you_ come up with that, Ballantyne?" The weasel glanced over at his tactician, who seemed to be roasting in his own juices. Yes, why hadn't he? It had been so painfully obvious.

"Well," Ballantyne was quick to interject, "How do you suppose we breach the mountain's defenses by ourselves? The six of us could not possibly evade the amount of guards they most surely must have."

"Nah, there ain't too many of 'em," Sawdirge pointed out, "When I ran up there, I only saw two guards at the door, nuttin' else. Course, I dunno how many guards they got inside, but…"

"Exactly!" exclaimed Ballantyne, "They probably have a multitude of guards in the interior of the mountain, to compensate for the dismal amount on the exterior! We are simply six creatures, none of which versed in the ways of the assassin! We cannot hope to utilize stealth and efficiency in the ways that would be required of us!"

"I can't be too hard," Regner remarked, "Just hide in some shadows and stuff. Now, how long until nightfall, Ballantyne? Can't be too long, the sun's setting right now." The weasel looked at the horizon.

"A half hour," Ballantyne muttered. How could Regner even consider a plan that he, the head tactician, did not conceive, but opposed? He was supposed to be Regner's tactician, not this… fox! Regner didn't even trust foxes!

"Good, because I'd prefer we did it before those hares got back. I guess it's a good thing Golding ran away from them, after all," Regner announced, "Now, one of us probably will have to tell Deathblaze, right?"

"No," murmured Ballantyne, "He knows to wait for my signal."

---

Deathblaze was crouched down, as if he were about to run a race. As soon as he received the signal from Ballantyne, he would charge straight at the mountain, along with all the other vermin behind him. He was motionless, rarely even blinking. He stayed that way as night enveloped the sky. The other vermin, however, were not so prepared. Golding's five captains were gathered around a fire. They had all seen what had happened to their leader.

"I say we gotta avenge Golding," Hairmold whispered, even though he was far out of earshot from Deathblaze, "That stupid stoat's completely frozen up there, not movin' an inch. I say we sneak up behind him and git him in the back." He pulled out a small dagger and held it out.

"Ha, have fun with that," Amora said casually, "I ain't gonna go anywhere near that creep. Yew ever see wot he did to Golding's father? It weren't very pretty, I can tell ya that."

"No, I didn't ever see wot happened to Golding's father," Hairmold snarled, "An' I don't care. He's got no guards, nobeast to watch his back. All it'll take is somebeast to sneak up on him all quiet-like and stab him right in the back."

"I'll betcha he has some sort of super-hearin'," Valla interjected, eyes wide.

"Oh, that's jus' silly," exclaimed her sister.

"No, it ain't! How do ya think he's such a good fighter?"

"Cuz he's strong, dimwit!"

"Oh, shut up, both of ya," Hairmold spat, "Yer actin' like babes. Now, I betcha these lizards here could take out ol' Deathblaze, can'tcha?" At the other side of the fire, Corzon and Kalzmar sat silently, shaking their heads. Hairmold rolled his eyes.

"If yer so tough, why don't _yew _go an' try to kill Deathblaze?" Amora said accusingly. Hairmold glared at her, but said nothing.

"Exactly," Valla added, "If it were as easy as yew claim it is, then there wouldn't be no problem with yew going an' killin' him."

"Uhh… What izz that?"

Kalzmar was pointing out of the trees, at the mountain. It was dark, and difficult to see, but six figures could be made out, moving slowly towards Salamandastron. Most of them were just blurred specks, but Regner's golden armor could be made out.

"Is it… Golding?" Hairmold asked, "He must have gotten away! But wot's he doin'?"

---

The figure was not Golding, however. It was Regner. Him and the other five were all stealthily moving towards the mountain, hiding behind dunes and keeping low to the ground. Ballantyne trailed in the back, still muttering about how bad the plan was and how Regner should have listened to him, not some random fox. None of the others paid him any heed, however.

There were still only two guards, standing at the doorway. They were looking for any sign of Colonel Caldwell and Lieutenant Tabbins, who had vanished along with twenty hares a half hour ago. However, they were not looking for a small group of vermin sneaking up on them, and that was a fatal mistake. Both fell, dead, as Levail and Taroll killed them at the exact same time.

"Good," Regner muttered, "Now, we need someone to stay out here and be a lookout, in case those hares come back. And not you, Ballantyne," he added angrily.

Taroll and his three friends all attempted to volunteer at the same time, none of them wanting to have to go inside a mountain full of hares. Levail was a little quicker than the rest. "I'll stay," he exclaimed in a hushed whisper.

The other five all slowly opened the front door a little bit. One by one, they slid in, and closed the door behind them silently. They were in a dismally lit main hall, perfectly obscured by shadows. There didn't appear to be any hares present.

"So far, so good," Regner whispered, "And you thought this would be a bad plan." He glanced over at Ballantyne.

Ballantyne was quick with a rebuttal. "Well, where are we supposed to go now? We have no clue where that brute of a badger could possibly be located. You see, we're going to have to wander around here, perhaps get lost, and be captured by those hares when we unwittingly bumble into them."

"Or," Alsten the fox pointed out, "We could split up an' all explore a different path. That way, one of us will find that stripedog and can tell the others."

Ballantyne frowned in frustration. "But… but…"

"That's another good idea," Regner smiled, "We'll go in groups. Ballantyne will go with me, you two stoats will go together, and the fox can go alone. You got that?"

"This is a bad idea," Ballantyne murmured under his breath, so that Regner would not hear. However, all the others agreed that it was a good idea, even Alsten, who had to explore the mountain alone.

There was no more speaking as the groups split up and went their own ways, with Ballantyne making unintelligible murmurs to himself.

---

Taroll and Sawdirge had gone together up some stairs. Taroll went in front, holding his spear tightly. Sawdirge hung in the back, his paws trembling uncontrollably. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea, the two stoats both thought. But… it had seemed like a good idea at the time…

The two would have bolted right then and there if they knew what was watching them. There was a reason they hadn't seen a single hare guard inside; they had all been relieved by Lord Oxpaw. Infuriated by the actions of Colonel Caldwell and Lieutenant Tabbins, he had taken it upon himself to be the solitary guard for the night. None of the hares were sure how that would help the situation, but there was never any stopping Lord Oxpaw when he wanted to do something, which was exactly the reason why Tabbins and Caldwell had gone off on their own in the first place.

Sawdirge stepped on a creaky piece of wood, making a loud noise. Taroll immediately wheeled around, the butt of his spear striking a vase and knocking it to the floor in a crash. Both of them froze, not knowing what to do.

After about a minute, Sawdirge croaked, "Well… I guess… No guards heard that… or else…"

Suddenly, Taroll began chuckling at the whole situation. They had just been stunned into silence for a whole minute by a falling vase. Sawdirge, not knowing why Taroll was laughing, nervously joined in.

Then Sawdirge saw something that made him nearly die of fright. Approaching them was a large, black shadow, progressing down the hall way slowly. Taroll turned and saw it, too. He lifted up his spear, only to have both it and him sliced in half by a gigantic sword.

Sawdirge fell backwards, the upper half of Taroll's body landing right next to him, Taroll's eyes crystallized and his mouth agape.

Fumbling backwards, he cried, "P-p-please d-don't k-k-kill m-me! I'm o-only s-seventeen s-s-seasons old, I'm t-too y-y-young to d-die!"

The badger moved forward from the shadows, his eyes completely unsympathetic to Sawdirge's plight. However, the badger did not raise his sword again. Instead, he reached down, and grabbed Sawdirge by the neck with his gargantuan paw.

"What are you doing here?! Who is your leader?! Tell me, now!!" shouted Lord Oxpaw angrily, shaking the unfortunate stoat, much like how he shook Corzon a long time ago.

Sawdirge had no qualms about relating everything he knew to the giant badger. "I'm h-here w-w-w-with Regner! W-we're g-going t-t-to addinassinate you or s-s-sumthin' like that! P-p-p-please don't k-k-kill me!!"

_Regner_. Oxpaw's eyes burned with hate at the mention of the name. Regner had to be the most vile, wretched, utterly immoral creature in all of Mossflower, Oxpaw reasoned. He tightened his grip, nearly crushing Sawdirge. "Tell me where Regner is, _now_!"

---

Regner and Ballantyne were looking at some sort of giant anvil with wonder and awe when they heard the screams that Sawdirge made. Regner seemed mildly annoyed. "Ballantyne, go get those idiots to shut up, please. They're going to mess this whole thing up, I know it."

Still grumbling, Ballantyne began marching back pompously. He left the giant forge and got about halfway down some hallway before the fox Alsten dashed in.

"What, I inquire, are you—" began the ferret, but Alsten grabbed him and slammed him into the side of the wall, covering the tactician's mouth. Both of them stood there silently, obscured by the shadows, as the giant badger entered the hallway, Sawdirge in one paw and a gigantic sword in the other.

Unwittingly, Regner also stepped into the hallway, at the other side, perhaps to complain to Ballantyne for making even more noise. He froze for a minute, his giant axe falling to the ground with a loud clang. Lord Oxpaw smiled: he would finally be able to put an end to the miserable weasel once and for all.

The badger walked forward, Sawdirge still whimpering in one paw. "Hello, Regner the Magnificent," the badger lord spoke, "I see that we meet again."

Regner scooped up his axe. "Y-yes, I see…" he murmured weakly. Oxpaw walked forward slowly, not even noticing Ballantyne and Alsten. The only thing he saw was his enemy before him.

The weasel suddenly remembered what Ballantyne had said. _"Not even Deathblaze could defeat him in a fair duel…"_ That was it! He would have to fight unfairly if he could even hope to survive this. But what could he do? How could he cheat the system?

An idea struck him. It was a long shot, but it could work…

Regner suddenly pointed at Ballantyne and Alsten and screamed, "Get him!!!" Lord Oxpaw span around to see what Regner was pointing at. Neither Ballantyne nor Alsten had any plans to "get" the badger, and Regner knew that.

The badger's huge sword suddenly swung forward. Ballantyne grabbed Alsten and pushed him forward. The fox was decapitated instantly.

Then, Regner did the only magnificent thing he ever did in his life. Mustering all of his strength, he hurled his gigantic battle axe forward at the badger while his back was turned. The large hunk of metal flew forward slowly and off-center, but it struck its target. Oxpaw span around just in time for the axe to imbed itself in his shoulder.

Oxpaw, however, was not going to let that deter him. He threw Sawdirge to the ground, knocking the stoat out cold, then charged forward, screaming like a banshee. Regner was almost paralyzed in fright, but he then realized he had one last chance.

Ballantyne had always advised the weasel to keep a second weapon on him at all times (a true warlord would never been seen with only one weapon, the ferret had reasoned), and Regner had followed that advice. Attached to his ankle was a small dagger. The weasel grabbed it out of its sheath. He had all of two seconds to throw it.

However, he was too close to miss. The dagger flew forward, striking the badger directly between the eyes. It sunk into Oxpaw's skull with a sickening (and yet, to Regner, all too satisfying) noise. Regner gloated triumphantly; he had just slain the badger lord of Salamandastron.

The triumph didn't last long, however. Regner suddenly noticed with horror that Lord Oxpaw was still running right at him. "How is that possi—" began the warlord. He was cut off as the gigantic badger smashed into him, and the two fell to the ground with a crash.

Ballantyne was the only creature still standing. He stepped over Alsten's disembodied head, drifted past Sawdirge's unconscious form, and prodded the fallen badger with his cane. Regner had vanished under the badger, no doubt flattened.

"Such a shame," whispered the ferret regretfully, "Poor old Regner, one of my few friends." He adjusted his monocle slightly. Then he remembered that he still had to give Deathblaze the signal. All the noise must have alerted the hares.

Swiftly, he departed, leaving the four bodies untouched in the hallway.


	23. The Conquest

XXIII: The Conquest

Golding was running as fast as the armor he had strapped to himself would allow him. He was deathly tired: he hadn't ceased his mad dash for nearly thirty minutes. He had smashed through tree branches, crashed through tangled bushes, and bashed through hanging vines. Suddenly, the dense jungle he was racing through ended, and he sped directly into a large clearing.

He stopped in the center, getting down on his knees to catch his breath. His mouth was terribly dry; he needed something to drink. He contemplated taking off the heavy golden helm he wore, and almost did, but then thought better of it and left it on.

He was propped on his saber. A few minutes passed; his breath began to return to him very slowly. It was perfectly silent other than his rapid, hoarse breathing. For a second, he actually believed he had escaped the hares.

Then, the rat named Bugo smashed out of the jungle, along with maybe ten other assorted vermin. All of them were screaming hysterically. "No…" Golding choked out, "Please." Then, without hesitation, he leapt back up, and continued his dash painfully.

He glanced behind him. Sure enough, about a score of hares emerged out of the jungle, still led by the gray one with the hook for a paw. Golding moaned. Why? Why did this have to happen?

A large stream appeared ahead. Golding thought nothing of it beyond the fact that it would probably slow him down a tad. It was just another obstacle, something he would smash and crash and bash through in his attempt to escape death.

He soon found out that he was horribly mistaken.

Golding leapt into the stream without hesitation, and dashed across it quickly, haphazardly, and noisily. The other vermin followed as well, all of them still screaming.

Golding got halfway through the stream when a set of razor-sharp teeth tore into his leg and ripped out a chunk of his flesh. He screamed in agony as the leg gave out and he dropped into the water.

The other vermin all suddenly realized with horror that they had just leapt into a stream filled with carnivorous fish of some sort. The water began to splash and froth as the fish all clamored for their next meal. Golding was bit again, and then went under, submerged in the water that was rapidly turning red.

Caldwell ordered all of his hares to halt. Somberly, they watched as all of the vermin were ripped to shreds, screaming and crying out in pain and fear. The spectacle went on for a few minutes, before very last vermin had vanished under the water and the stream ran red with blood.

"Wot a horrid way to die," Tabbins murmured. The stream was silent once more for a brief period of time. Then, yelling something unintelligibly, Golding burst out of the water, swinging a blood-stained saber.

Golding had always liked to eat fish, and now the fish were eating him. But the weasel was not about to let them be his end. He slashed downward with his sword, impaling a fish that had gone for his tail. He was pulled down again as another ripped at his legs, and one fish tried to take a bite out of his head, only to be repelled by the large golden helm.

Golding burst forward, out of the stream, safely on the other side. A fish had bitten his arm and hung on voraciously. Golding skewered it with his saber.

The weasel looked pathetic. He was torn up in all sorts of places. The only thing that had saved his life was Regner's shiny gold armor, now filled with dents and scratches. His upper body was in decent shape, but his lower body looked like it had gone through a meat grinder. Flesh hung to the bone in strips and pieces, and he found he couldn't move his legs.

Using his arms, he pulled himself forward, up to a tree trunk. He craned his head over, facing the hares, which were all lined up on the other side of the stream.

"'Ey, look! That isn't Lord Wot's-His-Face after all!" announced Tabbins.

"Of… course… not!!" Golding shouted back, every syllable causing him agony. Only now did he remove his large golden helm, which was covered in dents and was no longer very shiny or polished.

"Then where's the real one?" Caldwell asked.

"It… was… Ballantyne. All… Ballantyne. Yew… all… fell for… his… trap!!" Golding shouted back.

There was a murmur of discord amongst the hares. "So there was a blinking trap, just not the kind we expected…" Tabbins muttered, suddenly realizing that they had made a very bad mistake.

"I… don't know… wot… he plans… to do…" Golding spat out, along with some blood, "I… was just… a pawn…"

"We don't have any time to waste," Caldwell shouted, "We have to get back to Salamandastron as quickly as possible!! Let's MOVE!!" The hares all began to turn and run, leaving Golding on the other side of the stream.

The weasel yelled after them, "Tell… Ballantyne… I'm waiting… for him… in Hellgates! Heh… Heh… Heh…" He snickered, but with each laugh he just spewed more blood. He reclined against the tree trunk, hoping that by some miracle of fate he would not die that day.

---

Deathblaze saw Ballantyne waving his unnecessary cane in the air. A split second later, he was charging at the mountain. Finally, he would be able to kill. The battlefield was the only place where he was he was not afflicted by nerves or racing thoughts. His anger took over as he bolted down the beach, kicking up sand wildly. His eyes were tainted red, and suddenly all thoughts left him other than _kill_.

Ballantyne and the very lucky Levail stepped to the side as Deathblaze hurtled past them into the open doors of Salamandastron. Levail paused briefly, and then dashed after him, his spear at the ready. Ballantyne casually strolled away from the mountain as an army of perhaps two hundred and fifty vermin charged into the mountain as well. Now, the ferret mused to himself, all he would have to do is wait, and then Deathblaze would conquer the mountain. If only Regner hadn't died, then it would have been perfect.

The tactician strolled up to the top of a dune and turned to face Salamandastron as the horde poured into it. He placed his cane down as if to lean on it, but it sunk into the sand. Ballantyne frowned and pulled it out.

Suddenly, he felt the tip of a blade against the back of his neck. Turning around, he saw that right behind him was a young mousemaid, holding the sword of Martin the Warrior right up to his nose.

---

There was nothing to Deathblaze except the foes before him, which he cut down swiftly and efficiently with his large broadsword. The hares were all clambering out of the rooms, confused and wondering what all the commotion was about. Most opened their doors just to be cut down by Deathblaze as the crazed stoat charged by. He was running down a hallway now, slaying anything in his way.

The rest of the horde, however, had been met in the main hall. Deathblaze missed a lot of hares that were too slow in getting out of bed or leaving their rooms, and those hares had managed to pull together a strong force. They lined up in formation, blocking the hallway, and attacking the horde as they ran up one by one. There just weren't enough of them, though, and the horde was pushing them back quickly.

With Deathblaze wreaking havoc farther in the mountain, Hairmold had assumed command of the forces. Leading courageously from the back of the horde, where not even the farthest thrown javelin could reach him, he barked out orders left and right to anybeast that came near.

"Warsey, what are you doin' pullin' back like that?!" he screamed at a dismal-looking weasel who was cradling a bloody arm.

"They took off me paw, Hairmold!" Warsey screamed back, holding up the bleeding stump for the rat to see.

"I'll take off yer other one if ya don't get back there and start fightin' this instant!" Hairmold shouted, waving his cutlass menacingly. Warsey swiftly ran back to the front lines, where he was swiftly slain by hare's spear.

Amora and Valla ran up. "We're takin' too many casualties," Amora reported, "They're killin' us by the dozen!"

"We keep pushin' 'em back," Valla continued, "But we can't seem to slay any of 'em! They fight like madbeasts!"

"That's cuz there ain't no good leaders up there directing the horde on wot to do! Get up there and lead 'em!" Hairmold ordered, ignoring that fact that he was also a leader and not really directing the horde. Muttering curses, the twin ferrets dashed back to where they had come from.

Then Kalzmar and the rest of the lizards all dashed up to him. "Um… What we do?" asked Corzon, who was holding a wooden hammer (the Long Patrol had never been nice enough to return him his long, curved sword).

"I can tell ya wot not to do, an' that's stand 'round here like the dumb lizards yew are!" Hairmold festered, "Go an' take on the front lines!" He waved his cutlass at them, and wordlessly, they ran off.

---

The hares, however, were not being afflicted by such poor leadership. While Hairmold led from the back, the hare's commanding officer, a stalwart old veteran named Major Orwell, commanded from the front lines. With Tabbins, Caldwell, and Oxpaw all absent, the major had taken command, organizing the hares into formation, blocking off the hallway and keeping the horde only able to attack in relatively small numbers, which stopped the vermin from using their only advantage: the size of their army.

"How many of these are there?" shouted Sergeant Maudy, who had been promoted after the incident with the lizards roughly a season ago.

"Too many!" shouted back Sergeant Gavin, who had received the same promotion, as he lanced an attacking weasel.

"Stow the gab, lads!" ordered Major Orwell, "Keep focused on the enemy in front of you!"

Ironically, it was the enemy behind them that did them in. Deathblaze had charged down the entire length of the very long hallway, slaying hares along the way almost effortlessly in his blind rage. Then he reached a wall; the hallway ended. He paused for a split second, contemplating what to do in a crazed, psychotic way. Then he turned around and began running back the way he came.

The hares Deathblaze had missed the first time were all cut down on his second dash down the hallway, most never even knowing what hit them.

Then Deathblaze hit the blockade at the end of the hallway. None of them heard him coming over the roar of the battle. The stoat cleaved right through the middle of them, cutting them into two divisions. The unfortunate hares that were stuck in the middle of the force were skewered on Deathblaze's broadsword.

The formation broken apart, the battle descended into an all-out brawl, every creature for itself. The hares fought like mad, but they just didn't have the numbers. It was very clear that they were losing the battle.

Deathblaze almost began killing his own soldiers, but he suddenly turned on a dime and began to attack the rest of the hares one by one. In the back of the horde, Hairmold began to praise the stoat's fortunate timing. The one thing they didn't need right now was for that monstrosity Regner had called "captain of the guard" to turn on them.

Major Orwell found himself suddenly surrounded by maybe ten vermin. Yelling wildly, he thrust his spear at them, ignoring the injuries he himself received. He crashed and smashed his way through the vermin wildly and perilously.

Valla and Amora found themselves being charged by the major. Amora leapt forward, attempting to skewer the hare before he did likewise to her. The plan was unsuccessful. Valla stared in shock at her twin sister's corpse, hanging lifelessly on the end of Orwell's spear.

Orwell was about to finish off the other twin, too, when suddenly Deathblaze's broadsword sliced through his back, slaying the major instantly. The crazed stoat withdrew his blade and smashed his way forward at other hares, ignoring everything else around him.

With Orwell slain, the hares began to realize that they were not going to win this battle without anything short of a miracle. But that did not deter them to stop fighting; rather, it made them fight even more madly. The vermin fell in huge numbers. However, there were just too many of them to make a difference.

Corzon suddenly saw two familiar faces- Gavin and Maudy. If only he had stopped them a season ago… If only he had managed to catch up to them… Then maybe King Kirrent and Davian and all the rest wouldn't be dead. Maybe they'd still be living in the red fort. And maybe he'd have been able to fill his bag with all kinds of shiny and interesting things.

The former general of an army dashed at the two hares without hesitation. He swung his wooden hammer at them, as if they were just standing there, completely still. He didn't expect them to move. Both leapt out of the way and Corzon flew through the air, smashing into a wall and landing in a heap.

Gavin and Maudy shared a brief, triumphant glance. Then, suddenly, Gavin's eyes went blank as a spear was shoved through his stomach. Maudy, in horror, looked up to see who had slain his friend. It was Kalzmar, looking both menacing and somber at the same exact time.

Kalzmar didn't care if she died in the battle. The nightmares were so horrible, and they'd only gotten worse… And, sometimes, they came to her during the day. When they had been seated around the fire, just before Ballantyne had given the signal and Deathblaze had taken off in a furor, she had thought that Hairmold was King Kirrent. They seemed to have looked exactly the same for an instant. And then, it had looked as if Hairmold's head had been sliding off…

Why had this had to happen to her? If only Marclaw hadn't spread the seeds of discontent… If only King Kirrent hadn't said all those insults… Then maybe King Kirrent wouldn't be dead. Maybe they'd still be living in the red fort. And maybe she wouldn't be plagued by these horrible delusions.

Maudy charged at Kalzmar. The lizard withdrew her spear and readied it half-heartedly, not really caring all that much. Maudy leapt forward, his spear hurtling towards Kalzmar. She suddenly batted it back with her own spear.

Maudy whipped his lance around like a club, striking Kalzmar in the head. She recoiled like a rag doll. Maudy brought his spear back and plunged it straight through the lizard. Kalzmar also swung her spear, impaling Maudy through the side. Both of them fell over, dead.

The hares crumbled. Each one individually took out more than their fair share of vermin, but they all died one by one, until not a single one was left.

Deathblaze ended his rampage, the blood seemingly disappearing from his eyes as he took quick, rapid breaths. He had done what he had promised; he had taken over Salamandastron.


	24. The Aftermath

**Author's Note: Before I begin, let me remind you of how much I like minor characters. There aren't a whole lot of them in this fic so far (and most of them are dead by now, anyways), but you'll find that this chapter seems to oddly revolve around the ones still around. In fact, I take it a step farther and litter the whole second half of this chapter with inside jokes and references none of you will ever, ever get, even if I explained them. So... Just read it and go "WTH?", then we can continue on.**

**On a better note, we finally get some good characters doing things in the first half of this chapter. Take note of the character's name, BTW... But don't jump to conclusions.**

* * *

XXIV: The Aftermath

There was nothing to worry about, Ballantyne reassured himself mentally, it's just a young maid with a fancy sword. You can outsmart her. You can outwit her. Don't look nervous or afraid.

"Good day to you, miss," the ferret smiled eerily, tipping his top hat, "Now, why would a kind Redwaller like yourself be out this far? I hear that there is a great feast being prepared there at this very instant. Aren't you worried that you would miss out on all the fun?"

"D-don't try to trick me," stammered the mousemaid, "I was told about your type! You just want me to turn my back so you can stab me with a hidden knife or something! I'm not that stupid!"

"Now, now," Ballantyne spoke softly, "I assure you, I have no concealed weaponry of any sort. I am just a humble traveler, out exploring new lands and making new discoveries. Surely, need for such force is unnecessary?" The tactician truly wished she would put away the sword. He had heard about Redwall, that they looked like ordinary and peaceful woodlanders, but were really skilled, trained warriors. That was why Regner had been so impressed by the lizards.

"No!" shouted the mousemaid, "You're vermin! You're just trying to trick me! I can't fall for any traps! I'm the last hope for Salamandastron!" Skittishly, the sword of Martin the Warrior lunged forward a little bit, the point pricking at Ballantyne's neck. The ferret began to get nervous.

"Please, let's not be so hasty with that sword," the ferret exclaimed, attempting to sound as calm and collected as possible, "And please, don't use that dirty term 'vermin'. It sounds so… plebian. It is an assault on my ears, and it affronts my senses." Ballantyne considered the chances of one of the horde moving outside of Salamandastron and spotting him. They weren't likely; the pair of them had moved behind a dune, and Ballantyne knew how well those humungous lumps of sand could conceal.

"But it's what you are! You'll murder your own mother if it'd get you some treasure! You're despicable!" insisted the mousemaid. Ballantyne realized that there would be no getting through to her.

"Why don't we at least make an attempt to be friendly?" the ferret suggested, "My name is Ballantyne. What is yours?" Ballantyne knew that the Redwallers were honorable and just, and that they would not harm an unarmed creature. At least, he hoped so. This mousemaid seemed so skittish and fidgety…

"My name is Marettia," the mousemaid replied quickly, "Mary for short. But don't try to trick me or anything! I'll c-cut you down if you try anything f-funny, and I'm not j-joking about that!"

"Please, calm down, Marettia," the tactician insisted, "Something tells me you've never slain another creature before. Am I right on that account? No answer? Don't worry, I've never killed a living creature either." It wasn't a lie. Ballantyne had never personally killed anything, although he had been a direct cause for a few deaths, including Alsten and Golding's father.

"I don't believe you!" Mary shot back, "You're just a lying, conniving, dishonorable ferret! Martin told me not to trust any of you! Now, I've got some rope in my pack here, and I'm going to tie you up so you can't try anything! Hold out your paws!"

Pressed by the shining blade, Ballantyne did as instructed. Mary fumbled through her back, pulling out a long, dirty coil of rope. Carefully trying to both keep the sword of Martin the Warrior held up and bind the ferret's paws at the same time, the mousemaid cut a comical figure. It didn't quite help that she didn't exactly know how to tie a knot particularly well. Ballantyne did his best to refrain from laughing at the unfortunate situation, because he knew all too well that one misstep could send him to his grave. Finally, the bonds were tied, if a bit weakly.

"Are these measures really necessary?" Ballantyne asked.

"Don't start talking like that! You just want to break free or something and stab me in the back! I'm not going to trust you!" Mary nearly shouted, keeping a firm grip on Martin's sword.

And thusly, the conversation continued, progressing nowhere.

---

The interior of Salamandastron was a dismal sight. Bodies covered the floor. It was next to impossible to walk through the main hall without stepping on some poor creature that had been speared or stabbed or sliced. Every hare was either dead or dying, having fought bravely to defend their home. Their efforts showed. Out of an initial force of about two hundred and fifty vermin, only about twenty were still standing. If it hadn't been for Deathblaze, it was likely that the horde would have failed in their conquest.

Hairmold stormed about the hall angrily, not caring who he stepped on. The rat was completely unharmed due to his evasion of fighting. "Casualty report!" he shouted, "I need a casualty report!" He marched up to Valla, who was cradling her dead sister with the same blank expression. "I need a casualty report, now!"

"U-um… sniff… waaaaaaaaah!!!" Valla burst into tears instead of answering. Hairmold passed by her, muttering angrily. He approached Corzon, who was leaning against a wall, rubbing his head.

"Tell me the casualty report!" Hairmold snarled.

"What izz cazzulty report?" Corzon asked, shrugging. Hairmold waved his cutlass in frustration.

"Can somebeast give me a casualty report?!" he shouted at the meager amount of vermin that were licking their wounds around the hall. They all looked up briefly, but said nothing.

"Casualty report?" sneered Levail, whose luck apparently hadn't deserted him during the battle, although he was bleeding from a head wound and was beat up all around, "Look 'round, ya dumb rat. Almost all of us are dead, y'see? I wager there's a score of us left, if that. There's a casualty report for ya." The stoat stroked his bleeding skull, wincing in pain.

Hairmold grumbled something incomprehensibly, and then said, "Fine. So, I guess we're all gonna be killed when those longears that went after Golding go back home, in that case."

"Maybe not," Levail replied as he inspected his lance, which had been split in half, "Deathblaze can git us outta this mess. He can prob'ly slay 'em all himself, that's wot I say."

They both turned to see where Deathblaze was. The stoat was huddled in the corner of the room, muttering something over and over again. He didn't look like the bloodthirsty warrior that had just destroyed an army of hares. In fact, he looked sort of afraid.

"He don't look so good," Hairmold growled, "Where's that dumb ferret Ballantyne? He'll know what to do about that." Hairmold didn't really want to see Ballantyne ever again, but if the tactician could figure out what was wrong with Deathblaze, who could then in turn save them all from slaughter at the paws of the remaining Long Patrol, then he figured he could endure a few more minutes of listening to the ferret's incessant chatter. However, Ballantyne was nowhere to be found.

"I think he went out," Levail recalled, "Before the battle. Yew know how he is, can't use a weapon or nuttin', useless durin' a fight. Somebeast jus' has to go out there an' tell him we won, and then he'll come back here."

"Well, then wot are ya waitin' for?" Hairmold snapped, "Go out there an' find him! We need him to hyp-no-ma-tize Deathblaze or sumthin' like that." Hairmold didn't acknowledge the fact that they had already been discussing why they needed Ballantyne, making his repetition obsolete. Levail looked at him quizzically.

"Why do I hafta go, eh?" questioned the stoat, "My head's killin' me. Yew should go, there ain't nuttin' wrong with yew. All the res' of us all got hurt when they were, y'know, actually fightin'!"

Hairmold angrily pointed his cutlass right at Levail's chest. Levail made as if to reach for his lance, but then realized that it had been split in half. "Yer head won't be the only thing killin' ya if ya don't do wot I tell ya too! In case yew didn't notice, I'm in charge here now that Golding's gone! 'Ey, where'd the weasel get off to anyways? I saw him sneak in here jus' afore the battle."

The rat lowered his cutlass for a second as he paused, wondering what happened to his leader (he didn't know, of course, that the figure he had seen had actually been Regner). Levail used the opportunity to jump back, seizing a rapier that had lain on the ground, dropped by a slain hare.

The stoat had barely gotten the rapier into his paw when Hairmold leapt forward, slashing down with his cutlass. Levail swiftly dodged to the left, ignoring the pain in his head, and attempted to stab his enemy through the side. Hairmold held out his free paw as if trying to reach out and grab the rapier as it was thrust forward. Instead, his paw was skewered by the rapier, although it did effectively stop the sword from digging into his stomach.

Levail found himself in a tight spot. His rapier firmly stuck in Hairmold's paw, he was defenseless as the rat began to swing his cutlass back around. The stoat released the weapon and ducked, the cutlass soaring a few lengths above his head. Levail frantically searched the ground for another weapon, and it didn't take him long to find one. Before he could grab it, however, a scaly claw grabbed him by the nape of his neck and dragged him back.

"No fighting," announced Corzon, who had a strong grip on the back of Levail's neck, "Fight longearz, not uz, yez."

Levail wasn't convinced. "Lemme go! He's gonna cut me up if ya don't lemme go!!" Hairmold had pulled the rapier out of his paw painfully, and looked back up at his foe. Great, thought the rat, now he's defenseless. Hairmold lunged forward, his cutlass poised to gut Levail.

However, the stoat had been lucky thus far, and that luck wasn't about to run out. Hairmold froze in mid-lunge, and then toppled to the floor in a heap, a javelin sticking out of his back. Levail let out a sigh of relief. Corzon, frowning, reluctantly let go of him.

"They oughtta call you Levail the Lucky," shouted a groggy voice from the far end of the hall, "First, ya git lucky 'nough ta stay outside while the rest of us gotta go badger huntin'. Then, yer one of maybe twenty that don't get himself killed by the Long Patrol. An' now, I jus' saved yer life right there."

Levail looked up to see who had spoken. Emerging from a darkened hallway was Sawdirge, recently awakened. "Ballantyne told me yew were dead," replied Levail, almost suspiciously.

"Nah, not even close," Sawdirge replied confidently, "This is wot happened. So, we're all lookin' fer this badger, right, an' we all split up. Well, me an' Taroll go up the stairs, and wouldn't ya know, the big stripedog's right there, waitin' fer us. He chops pore Taroll inta two pieces, an' he's goin' fer me, but I'm too quick fer him. He's hackin' an' slashin' an' choppin', an' I'm dodgin' an' duckin' an' everythin'. Then, Ballantyne an' Alsten an' Regner show up, and the stripedog chops off pore Alsten's head. So Ballantyne jus' starts runnin' I guess, an' Regner gets himself killed somehow, but I plunge my spear inta that stripedog's dirty heart, y'know, an' I slays him good. Went down like a rock, that stripedog. Course, he falls right on me, an' I get knocked out 'til now. Good thing I got up when I did, course, or yew would prob'ly be dead too!"

"Wait, Regner was alive?" exclaimed a weasel that was missing an ear, "Ballantyne said he got poisoned!"

"Yeah, well, that was a lie," Sawdirge explained matter-of-factly, "Ballantyne had some big crazy plan, an' he faked Regner's death and everythin'. Course, didn't do pore Regner no good, he went an' got himself killed anyways!"

"I don't believe ya!" shouted a rat with a broken snout, "Regner wouldn't never let Golding take over his horde!"

"Nah, it's true," announced Levail, backing up his friend, "Ballantyne didn't tell Regner. He poisoned him with some special poison that only made him fall 'sleep fer a few days. When he woke up, he was pretty angry."

The main hall suddenly was abuzz with noise, even though there were only a handful of vermin left. Corzon stood in the middle silently, confused by all this. There were some badgers, and then Regner came back to life, and… It made no sense.

Darkscale ran up to him, a long gash running down the center of his face, directly in between his eyes. "Corzon, they all dead, yez. Kalzmar too, all dead. Only uz two left, yez."

Corzon frowned. No wonder he hadn't seen Kalzmar anywhere, or any of the other lizards, for that matter. It was a grim realization, even to Corzon's miniscule brain.

There was only one other silent creature in the room, and that was Deathblaze. The crazed stoat had ceased his muttering, but still sat in the corner, wide eyed. The anger had completely dissipated, and his thoughts were racing again, spinning around in his head like some sort of demented carousal. He was always like this after a battle, but usually Ballantyne was there to give him some sort of drug or wave around his pendulum or do something that would snap him out of it.

Left to his own devices, however, Deathblaze's mind seemed to split. He deeply, deeply regretted what he had done, and for no apparent reason. He just felt sorry, and wanted to go back in time to avert the battle, or something. But still, yelling into one ear was a side of him that wanted to fight more, slice more, kill more. Ballantyne had called this one of Deathblaze's stages, and there was a name for it, but Deathblaze wouldn't be able to remember it if his life depended on it.

If only he wasn't so messed up. If only his head were working right. If only he could kill and slice more! More! If only he could kill every hare, murdering them in the most gruesome, bloodthirsty ways! If only he could have stopped himself. If only he hadn't charged into the mountain. If only he had left, and left for good, never to return to Regner's army. To kill other creatures! Sweet and innocent ones, living peacefully in their homes! Even the young ones, make them scream!

Yes!

No!

Deathblaze sat silently as he felt the sanity that he still clung to desperately begin to unravel. If Ballantyne didn't show up soon… he may just snap.


	25. The Story

**Author's Note: Yes, Mary as in Mary Sue. But as I said before, don't jump to conclusions. ;)**

* * *

XXV: The Story

Ballantyne was trying to talk his way out of his situation, but it wasn't working. He was now bound at the footpaws as well, and forced to sit on the sand. Mary was surprisingly stubborn with her anti-vermin ideals. Ballantyne, although annoyed, decided he couldn't blame her, considering the vermin he had hung around.

"How did you know to arrive to this exact location?" Ballantyne asked, keeping an eye on the tip of the sword, in case the mousemaid accidentally moved it forward or something.

"I'm not telling you anything anymore! You're just going to use it against me somehow and hurt all my friends!" Mary shrieked, shaking compulsively. Ballantyne frowned, although he was careful to frown disapprovingly instead of maliciously.

"Honestly, I do not understand how you could possibly be under the impression that I am in any position to bring harm upon your friends, or how I could have possibly used the response to the query I delivered to you in order to create such a situation," Ballantyne replied. The ferret took pride in knowing that any other vermin would have lost his temper and probably scared the mousemaid into slaying them. No, Ballantyne reasoned, he was too smart for that, too calm for that. He didn't lose his temper easily, although his patience was wearing thin.

The tactician waited for an answer. But Mary wasn't paying attention to him anymore, which was a refreshing change. She was staring at something far beyond. Finally, she said, "It's them! The hares! They aren't all dead! Oh, joyous day! I have to alert them!" She looked as if she was going to get up and begin running, and Ballantyne hoped that she would, but the mousemaid paused before she even rose halfway. "Wait… I can't just leave you here alone! You'll escape using your hidden dagger and then stab me while my back is turned! It's exactly the kind of thing you dirty vermin types would do! But how can I get the attention of the hares without leaving you?"

The answer, Ballantyne found, was humiliating. Mary had decided that she would just take the "dirty vermin type" with her. However, she refused to sever the bonds on Ballantyne's footpaws, and he was forced to jump awkwardly along with her. The ordeal was not made any easier by the fact that the sword of Martin the Warrior was pressed against his back, piercing the threads of Ballantyne's good black coat.

---

Colonel Caldwell and the rest of his hares had turned around, running as fast as they could back to Salamandastron. Now, they were finally back. Caldwell knew he had made a grave mistake. How had Tabbins convinced him to do this? They needed to spring the trap on themselves, because they knew that Lord Oxpaw would act impulsively and get them all killed. Well, there was irony for you. It had actually been _them _that acted impulsively and gotten them all killed.

If Salamandastron had been taken… If Lord Oxpaw and the others were dead…

"Hey! Hey!!" shouted a voice that sounded far away and distant. Turning his head, Caldwell saw a very odd spectacle, obscured by the darkness of night: a mousemaid holding the sword of Martin the Warrior to the back of a ferret dressed in very fancy wear that was hopping up and down with all four of his paws bounded. If the situation hadn't been so dire, most of the hares probably would have laughed.

"'Ey, Caldwell," said Lieutenant Tabbins, "Mayhaps we ought to see if these two know what's going on before we just dash into Salamandastron swingin' our weapons and all. For all we know, Lord Oxpaw was able to rout the vermin already and we'd just look foolish. And if the worst has happened and those vermin… took over Salamandastron, then we'd be smart to try and think up a plan before just attacking them."

"I was already planning on stopping," Caldwell replied, "The mouse is holding the sword of Martin the Warrior. Something important must be happening."

Tabbins turned to the rest of the hares. "We're going to go see what those two want. I know you all want to find out wot happened and all, and so do we. So let's just be patient, okay?" There were a few groans from some of the hares. Tabbins ignored them.

"Well, we ought to figure something important out from these two, that ferret is Regner's right paw," Caldwell muttered to the lieutenant. Tabbins merely shrugged as they swiftly moved towards the two.

Mary the mousemaid began to run, urging Ballantyne along with her sword. The ferret hopped and bounced awkwardly, eventually just falling to the ground. Embarrassed and filled with shame, Ballantyne tried to get back up as quickly as possible, but just fell down again. Before he could try again, he was suddenly hoisted up by a couple of hares. The ferret's top hat had fallen off, and lay on the ground lifelessly.

"Hey!" exclaimed Mary again, "I'm so glad to see you! I thought everybeast was dead! I was worried that this vermin here would try to stab me in the back with his hidden knife! Oh, my name is Marettia, Mary for short. What's yours?" She clasped Colonel Caldwell's hook paw and shook it. The hares weren't sure if they were more confused by the ferret with the strange attire or the mouse with the immense zeal.

"Uh… I'm Colonel Caldwell, and that over there is Lieutenant Tabbins. You can meet the rest later. First, tell us, do you happen to know wot happened to Salamandastron, Mary?"

"No, not really," Mary replied quickly, "I was hoping that you would tell me. You see, Martin- his ghost, anyways- told me that I was the last hope! And I'm pretty sure that means I'm the last hope for Salamandastron!"

"I don't recall Martin ever sending somebeast to help us out before…" muttered Tabbins in the background.

"What about you, ferret?" Caldwell turned to Ballantyne, looking the tactician straight in the eye. Through his monocle, Ballantyne stared right back. "I know you know something about what's happened."

Dealing with hares was tricky business, Ballantyne reminded himself. He would have to be very careful. "I will gladly relate to you the story of what exactly transpired here, if you would kindly put my hat back upon my head. I believe I look terribly scruffy without it, to be frank." Ballantyne nodded his head towards the lonely top hat on the ground.

Tabbins unwittingly reached for it, but Caldwell batted his paw away. "Don't try to sound superior to us with your fancy speech and clothes," snapped the hare, "And don't try to mess around with us. You tell us what happened, you blinking vermin."

Ballantyne sighed. "As you wish, then, although I dearly would enjoy the return of my hat." He ignored a glare from the colonel. "Oh, where to begin? I guess I should inform you of my name, to begin with. I am Ballantyne, Chief Tactician to the late Lord Regner the Magnificent."

"Oh, so you're the mastermind behind this whole plan, eh?" Caldwell jeered, "We found your weasel friend, the one you tried to fool us into thinking was Regner, and he told us it was all your fault. Oh, by the way, he said he's waiting for you in Hellgates."

"Wait, did you just say that this Regner chap was dead?" Tabbins interjected.

"Two responses at once?" Ballantyne sighed pompously, "To answer the first query invoked upon me, yes, I was the mastermind behind this entire scheme. And, if I do say so myself, it was brilliant, as it obviously worked. But more on that later. And yes, Lord Regner the Magnificent has been slain, although not before he ended the life of your nefarious Lord Oxpaw."

"He's lying," Tabbins murmured, "That weasel could never kill Lord Oxpaw!"

"No, no, everything I relate to you is the whole truth," Ballantyne replied, "It is of my benefit if you are informed of just how genius my plan was, and just how expertly I carried it out. As you no doubt have guessed, I am very… proud. It's made me very despised by the other creatures I associate with, but I only boast about my achievements because I have a right to do so. You see, there is no glory in being a tactician. It is the warriors who garner all of the infamy and riches, whilst the tacticians pose meekly in the background, unknown to all. I could simply not allow that to happen. I deserve all of the credit for how Lord Regner the Magnificent rose to power, gathered a horde, and built his castle, and I have ensured that I receive this credit. I am less concerned with whether or not I survive this day than I am about whether or not my legacy will continue. That is a philosophy that you hares adhere to on the battlefield, is it not? So why the scowling faces? I am merely mimicking your own actions."

"We don't fight for glory," Caldwell was quick to reply, "We fight to protect our friends and family, as well as our homeland."

Mary whispered to Tabbins, "Can somebeast explain to me what's going on here?"

Tabbins replied, "I don't have a bally clue, but I'm hoping the colonel starts smacking this lousy ferret around, he's getting on my nerves."

Ballantyne was already prepared to say another speech. "Well, it appears that our morals and philosophies still are not very differing. I must say regretfully that I never have enjoyed the benefits of family, but I have had three great friends over the course of my life so far, and I devoted everything in my power to them. Regrettably, two of them are dead right now, since Lord Regner the Magnificent gave his life to slay your lord. Oh, and please do not mistake that for a jeer."

"I'm surprised you even have one friend, especially after seeing wot you did to your own comrades, using 'em as bait and all," Tabbins muttered.

"Do not believe that that putrid weasel was innocent," Ballantyne responded, "No, he had been planning to stab Lord Regner the Magnificent in the back for seasons now. I was only able to dispose of him today. He was a traitor, and I'm certain that you delivered upon him a just reward for his actions."

"We watched as he was torn apart by fish," Caldwell said, "He pulled himself out of the stream nearly a skeleton, left there to die an agonizing, slow death. I wouldn't wish such a death on anybeast, not even you."

Ballantyne suddenly realized he was treading dangerous waters. The only reason he was still alive right now was because they needed information from him. He didn't know why they disliked them; he had proved that they were both fighting for the same reasons, and he tried to appear as honest as possible… It must be stereotyping. The figured that just because he was a ferret meant he was inherently evil. Of course. However, there was no point in trying to rectify that situation. Ballantyne noticed that they were out in the open now, and there were enough hares as that the night couldn't hide them. It would only take one creature opening up the doors of Salamandastron for a breath of fresh air to spot them. And then, Deathblaze would rush to his rescue. After all, they were friends, right?

The ferret just needed to stall until that time. "Yes, a horrid death that must be, devoured alive by carnivorous fish. I would have been hoping you simply made a quick end to him, perhaps just a simple execution."

"The Long Patrol would never stoop so low as to execute any creature!" Caldwell nearly roared. Although outwardly taken aback, inwardly Ballantyne smiled. That meant he was safe. How could the hares simply kill a completely unarmed creature like himself?

"Only dirty vermin would do something so vile!" Mary added, as if feeling that she weren't contributing enough to the conversation.

"Please, must you utilize that discriminatory term, 'vermin'?" Ballantyne pleaded, "I have taken great measures to place myself above the implications caused by such a term, yet you still deride me?"

"Pah!" Tabbins snorted.

"You may dress nicely, and you may be clean, and you may talk properly, but a vermin's a vermin. Your actions tell me all I need to know. Conquest, traps, using your own soldiers as bait… It's despicable. And the fact that you try to justify it is even worse," Caldwell growled.

"Bad form," murmured some of the hares.

Ballantyne was crestfallen. How could these hares not listen to his reason? What was he supposed to do with Golding, let him kill them all in their sleep? Perhaps he had to garner their sympathy. "Please, I implore you. Listen to me. My life has been exceedingly difficult, filled with hardships. I do what I need to in order to survive. If I did not live up to my expectations, I would fall from grace with Lord Regner the Magnificent, and he would no longer have Sir Deathblaze protect me. Then, I would surely be killed by any of the many creatures that hate me."

"I thought Regner was supposed to be your friend," Caldwell replied, "What kind of friend would let you die just because you made an unsuccessful battle plan?"

Ballantyne looked down at his footpaws shamefully. It was all an act, of course, but the ferret felt a little pain from the hare's words. Just a little. Ballantyne rarely allowed emotion to penetrate his mind. It corrupted his ideals, ruined his plans. "You must understand," he said softly, "I use the term 'friend' loosely. As in, any creature that has never wished to kill me personally."

"How… pathetic," Caldwell muttered.

Ballantyne wished that Deathblaze would hurry up and spot him. These hares were reminding him just how lousy his life really was. How long had it been like this? He had left his home when he was twelve seasons old… then he met Regner two, maybe three seasons later… No, it was four, because he left when it was winter and met Regner when it was winter again… Or maybe it had been eight seasons? No, that was far too long… How could he not remember? Ballantyne had prided himself on remembering everything.

"So, are you gonna tell us wot happened?" Tabbins suddenly asked after a few seconds of awkward silence.

"No, it seems all he can talk about is how much of a blinking loser he is," Caldwell replied.

"Um… Should I be saying something?" piped up Mary.

"Why don't you tell us why you're…" Caldwell began, but his voice trailed off as he saw that Ballantyne's head was turned, looking towards Salamandastron. "What are you looking at?"

Ballantyne smiled, completely forgetting how bad he had been feeling just prior. "Oh," he said, with the pompous arrogance that he normally spoke with, "I'm just looking at Sir Deathblaze as he comes to slay you all."

Screaming and shouting, a lone stoat with a large broadsword was hurtling down the mountain towards the hares.


	26. The Weasels

**Author's Note: This is the final chapter in Part II. It took me three tries to write it the way I wanted it to be written, but I think, in the end, I did it pretty well. By the way, the first little part that's in all italics is a flashback, if you couldn't gather that yourself. It's one of two flashbacks in the entire story, the other happening about half-way through Part III.**

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XXVI: The Weasels

_It is a perfectly normal day at Castle Regner. Golding, already poised for promotion, is marching around the fortress, doing his sentry duty. Everything is as to be expected; there isn't a single creature roaming the halls that shouldn't have been there._

_Then Ballantyne comes around the corner, followed by Taroll, Levail, and that new hot-blooded recruit, Deathblaze._

_They look as if all they're going to do is pass Golding by. But, just as they near him, Taroll and Levail seize both of Golding's arms, pinning him to the wall. Ballantyne sneers. He's dressed in some sort of fancy outfit that Golding can't really describe._

"_So, where is the location of your father, Golding?" interrogates the ferret._

"_Why?" replies Golding, a bit frightened, "Whaddya want with him?"_

"_Your father has been instigating a rebellion," Ballantyne shrugs, as if not knowing the implications of this accusation, "One of his associates betrayed him and told us everything. We have no need for traitors in this horde, Golding. We need to execute your father."_

_Golding is horror-stricken. This can't be happening! "I… I don't know where he is, okay! I've been guardin' these halls for the past hour or so!"_

_Ballantyne frowns. "I suppose there is truth in that. Taroll, Levail, take him with us. I want him to see just what happens when you defy the power of Lord Regner the Magnificent."_

_The two stoats half-lead, half-drag Golding behind Ballantyne as they continue walking. Golding knows where they're going; his father's room. Every step they take fills him with dread. They go down halls, up stairs, down stairs, around corners. Every creature in the entire castle seems to have vanished, except for them. The corridors are silent. Golding is silent. Taroll, Levail, and Deathblaze are silent. Even Ballantyne is silent._

_The door to Golding's father's room is up ahead now. Ballantyne nods to Deathblaze. The stoat stomps forward and pounds on the door vigorously. A few seconds pass._

"_Don't look like he's here," mutters Taroll quietly. Deathblaze knocks again. Still, there is no answer._

"_I was afraid of this," Ballantyne announces, "It could be quite some time before that treacherous weasel decides to show his face again."_

_Golding is seething in anger. If he weren't being restrained by Taroll and Levail, he'd show the ferret a thing or two about insulting his father._

"_Wot if he's jus' hidin'?" asks Levail._

"_He very well could be," replies Ballantyne, "Deathblaze, open the door."_

_The stoat tries to open it, but the door has been locked. Uncaring, Deathblaze simply pulls out his gigantic sword and swings it right into the wooden door. It nearly smashes in half. Deathblaze kicks down whatever is left standing and the five of them enter._

_Golding's father is there, sitting on a chair. "Why'd ya hafta break down my door?" he exclaims, "I was gonna get it eventually. An' why do ya have my son all under guard? Wot's goin' on?"_

_Ballantyne smiles. "Don't act ignorant, Aulder," says the ferret calmly, "I know what you are up to. Shame on you. Lord Regner the Magnificent is benevolent enough to make you his captain of the guard and this is how you repay him?"_

"_Wot're yew talkin' 'bout?" demands Aulder indignantly._

"_Aulder, your fox friend told us everything in exchange for a promotion and prestige amongst the troops," announces Ballantyne with a satisfied tone._

"_Wot?! Salze sold me out?! The traitor! Where is he? I'll teach him a lesson!" Aulder suddenly rises from his seat._

"_Funny you should react so in such a ballistic manner, considering that you are a traitor yourself," Ballantyne points out, "Oh, and Deathblaze here slew Salze. He was too untrustworthy; first he betrayed Lord Regner by siding with you and then he betrayed you. We couldn't have such an unsavory character in our ranks. You should have taken a page out of Lord Regner's book and not trusted a fox; they're wily and sly creatures."_

_Golding wants to say something, but thinks better of it. He knows his father could get out of this situation. At least, he hopes so._

"_You're lucky, though," Ballantyne continues, "Salze specifically said that your son here was not involved in the plans. That means we won't have to execute him like we will to you."_

_Aulder grits his teeth. It's the truth; Aulder made sure Golding was kept in the dark in case the plan ever was found out._

"_Yew ain't gonna take me down without a fight," growls Aulder, drawing his saber, although he, unlike his son, knows the situation is hopeless. He's seen Deathblaze fight. There's no stopping him in a duel._

"_I wasn't expecting to," Ballantyne merely replies, "That is why I brought Deathblaze along with me. Now, I assume you would like some last words with your son, correct?" Aulder looks at the ferret suspiciously, having not expected such an action._

"_Son, don't do anything stupid," he says simply, "Don't disgrace my name any more than I already have. An' don't go off an' try to finish wot I started. It ain't gonna work, I tell ya. I should've realized my mistake."_

"_Father…" is all Golding can say back. There is a silence._

_Ballantyne breaks it. "Now, how about we get this duel under way?" He nods to Deathblaze, who already has his broadsword at the ready._

_A small group of hordebeasts passing by has stopped to see all the commotion, and have gathered behind Taroll and Levail. Among them are the twin ferrets Valla and Amora, who would later help Golding in his own rebellion._

"_I'm ready fer ya, Deathblaze," Aulder growls._

_Unfortunately, he isn't. The stoat leaps forward. Aulder's head leaves his body, landing on the floor in a bloody mess. It couldn't even be considered a duel._

_Ballantyne notices a speck of blood that has landed on his outfit. Drawing a handkerchief, he wipes it off carefully, and then departs, followed by Deathblaze. Taroll and Levail release Golding, and leave likewise._

_The weasel staggers forward into his slain father's room, tears streaming down his face. "Father…" Golding says, repeating the last words he ever said to Aulder. He regrets that he did not say more._

Golding would never be able to forget that incident for as long as he lived. Sitting against a tree, half-dead, the weasel contemplated what he would do next, after he got healed. Because he knew he was going to get healed. He wouldn't allow himself to die, not while Ballantyne and Deathblaze still lived. He had to kill them himself. It seemed like a daunting task; Ballantyne was too smart and Deathblaze was too strong. But Golding knew he could do it. Of course, what Golding thought he knew and what was actually happening in reality were two completely different things.

The weasel, fueled by his quest for revenge, attempted to stand. He found that only one of his legs would actually move at all, and it sent a shock of agony through him when it did. The other just lay limply, alarmingly painless. Golding had been in a horde; he had seen all kinds of injuries and had listened to Ballantyne explain most of them. Of course, he had never remembered any of the educational things the tactician ever spouted, and so whatever was wrong with his leg, he did not know. He didn't quite care; what good would knowing that he had reallylongworditis do for him? None.

Using his relatively uninjured arms, he pushed himself onto his stomach. If he couldn't walk, then he'd crawl. Through sheer determination, he reached out his paws and pulled himself forward slowly. The leg that could still register pain felt as if it were on fire. Golding ignored it as he reached forward again, thinking of the day when he'd be able to run Ballantyne through.

---

Golding was the farthest thing from Ballantyne's mind at the moment; there was no point in dwelling on dead creatures. Right now, the ferret was leagues more interested in the living ones, such as Deathblaze and the twenty or so assorted vermin half-heartedly running behind him, none of them wanting to have to face more hares and probably get killed.

Ballantyne figured that Deathblaze had simply seen them from Salamandastron, as he predicted he would. However, that was not the case. Deathblaze's insanity had simply peaked, and, in a blind fury, he dashed out of the mountain, screaming angrily. The other vermin probably would not have followed if Corzon, thinking that Deathblaze's random outburst actually meant something, had not immediately yelled for them all to charge. But the stupid lizard had, and now most of the vermin found themselves not in a particularly favorable situation, especially considering that most of them were injured in some way.

Colonel Caldwell, immediately forgetting Ballantyne, leaped up and began issuing orders. "Tabbins, get your squad up front with those spears and wait for 'em! Clements, get your archers ready to fire, quickly! Mary, you said that you're our last hope. Time for you to show us what you can do."

The hares ran off to their formations. Mary hesitated, looking at her sword uncertainly. She hadn't ever actually fought before, and she was definitely sure she had no natural talent, considering she was as coordinated as… something that wasn't coordinated. She'd have to think up a fitting simile later. She jogged up in between a line of hares led by Lieutenant Tabbins and a line of hares led by whichever creature Clements was, waiting for when the right moment to step forward would hopefully arise. Caldwell ran up to where Tabbins was, drawing a short, light sword with his one remaining paw.

"Here they come!" shouted Caldwell, even though only Deathblaze was really near enough, as the others were purposely going slowly, "Archers, fire!"

The arrows would have made Deathblaze look like a pincushion if he had not suddenly stopped, frozen in his tracks. Where was he? What was he doing? The arrows all landed at the stoat's footpaws. He stared up blankly.

Ballantyne frowned. He had no clue what Deathblaze was doing, although it was good he had stopped in time to not get killed by the arrows. He had never seen the stoat like this. He knew Deathblaze had multiple personalities from his "psychological evaluation", but Deathblaze never shifted in between them so abruptly before. That had been fortunate; if the horde had seen Regner's captain of the guard break down in a pool of regret and angst, all of them would be laughingstocks. Ballantyne had charted out when it was likely for Deathblaze to shift his personality, using intricate tables and formulas. But this was a very new development. And it could be very bad.

Everybeast was frozen. The remainder of the horde had stopped, thinking that Deathblaze had some sort of strange plan. Caldwell ordered the archers to halt, thinking that Deathblaze wanted to parley or something. After a few moments of silence, the hare turned to Ballantyne and said, "What is he doing?"

"I do believe that he is switching in between his multiple personalities," Ballantyne responded, an unsure tone in his voice, "You see, Sir Deathblaze is mentally unstable. Since I've never seen him switch personalities so quickly, I believe that he experiencing some sort of mental breakdown."

"Wot, so he's off his bally rocker?!" exclaimed Tabbins, "Wot if he switches back to his angry personality?"

"Well, I hypothesize that that would be most unfortunate for you, seeing as Deathblaze is immensely powerful," Ballantyne responded, the gears in his brain turning. What if Deathblaze never switched back? What if he did, and then became docile again right in the middle of the fighting? What would happen then? They'd all be doomed! Ballantyne, however, was not nervous. He always had an ace up his sleeve. "If you wish, however, I can neutralize him for you. Of course, I will not do so unless I receive payment of a sort of my choosing."

Caldwell and Tabbins exchanged glances. "I don't trust him," Tabbins muttered.

"Neither do I," replied Caldwell, "He's probably got some trick planned for us, just like he always has."

"Wait…" Mary suddenly interjected, "I think we should trust him."

"Wot?!" exclaimed Tabbins, "You're the one who's claimed that he'd try to stab us in the back all this time! How could you possibly think that we should trust him?"

"Because I pieced together the last of the riddle," Mary replied, "The riddle that Martin told me in his dream. It didn't make sense until now. It started when I was thinking about how exactly I had been Salamandastron's last hope, because I really hadn't done anything other than catching the ferret. Then I started thinking about the rest of the poem. And… and… um… Well, I can't remember it now… That's funny… I could remember it before… but… It had something to do with… no… um… Funny, all I can remember now is one line, the first one… 'Hold my sword up proudly'… But…"

Mary held up the sword as instructed, as if it would suddenly make her remember the rest of the riddle.

At the exact same moment, Deathblaze's eyes burned red again, and he charged forward, roaring like the madbeast he was. He was at the hares in seconds. The spears jabbed forward at him, but instead of meeting them head-on, Deathblaze leapt through the air, right over the small line of hares. There was a mousemaid in front of him. Ready for the sweet, sweet taste of blood, Deathblaze swung his huge sword horizontally through the air.

Deathblaze's sword went right through the sword of Martin the Warrior. The few creatures who saw the spectacle would have claimed it was an illusion, a mirage. It was if one of the swords wasn't actually there. It was no trick of the mind, however. Deathblaze looked on in confused fury as his broadsword, made of thick iron, separated into two pieces halfway through the blade.

The stoat hit the ground, unprepared for the landing, and slammed into the sand. He was still looking at what was hardly more than a hilt in his paw. Immediately, several hare spears were pointed at his back.

"Don't move!" shouted Colonel Caldwell, "Or it'll be the last move you ever make, vermin!"

Deathblaze thoughts were racing again, but now he had regained his limited control over his mind, and he hadn't even needed Ballantyne to hypnotize him. His thoughts were racing so fast they just made a whirring noise in his brain, but his instincts told him to stay still.

"Deathblaze has fallen!" shouted Levail, his head still aching, "Uh… Throw down yer weapons! We can't fight these hares ourselves!" Quickly, all of the weapons were thrown to the ground, hitting the sand with a plop. The hares quickly herded them over to Colonel Caldwell.

"That was impressive work there," remarked the colonel to Mary as the twenty vermin were moved over to him, "We probably would have lost a lot of hares trying to take that madbeast down. My thanks."

"I… didn't actually do anything," Mary replied, confused, "I just held out Martin's sword… and then that vermin was flying at me… and… I didn't do anything!" While the words sounded humble, there was a tone of disappointment in Mary's voice. When she had heard that she was Salamandastron's last hope, she had envisioned herself slaying legions of vermin effortlessly.

Tabbins held out his spear, the point right under Corzon's neck. "'Ey, I remember this one! Laid him flat with my spear last time he came around here. Hawhawhaw! That was a good time, back then..." The lieutenant's voice trailed off as he remembered that Colonel Caldwell and the abbeydwellers had not had such a good time.

Caldwell ignored him. "So, which one of you is in charge? I want some information, and that ferret seems incapable of giving it to me."

With Valla still a wreck in the back of the group, Corzon decided he would say that he was in charge, considering the fact that Kalzmar was dead. Levail, however, was once again quicker. "I guess I'm in charge," announced the stoat.

Caldwell held his short sword up at Levail's snout. "Now, did you have any prisoners from Salamandastron? Are there any hares left? What happened to Lord Oxpaw?"

Levail cleared his throat before speaking. "Well, ya see, there weren't… any… prisoners… Um… All the hares fought until the bitter end, y'see… Um…" Levail suddenly regretted claiming to be in charge. He had a lot of bad news to tell the hares. Hopefully, they would be sensible enough not to slay the messenger.

Caldwell stared at Levail in a stony, petrified silence. He had seen this coming, but that didn't make him prepared for it. All those hares… dead. They were the only ones left. Twenty of them, mostly hot-blooded new recruits. Only two officers; him and Tabbins. Not even a badger lord. Salamandastron might as well have fallen, for all the good they were worth. How was Caldwell supposed to command the mountain? How could he even bear to go in there? It was his fault that this had happened in the first place. He had tried to prevent Lord Oxpaw from doing something rash and getting them all killed… And it had ended up that Caldwell had been the one who acted rashly, not Oxpaw. And now, they were all dead. Orwell and Gavin and Maudy and all of them. How could he bear to see their slain bodies in there?

The colonel forced back tears and gripped his sword. Levail braced himself for the worst, thinking that he would be cut down right then and there. But Caldwell instead turned towards Ballantyne.

The ferret barely had time to react as the sword flashed forward in a blur. Ballantyne wore a shocked expression on his face, his mouth frozen open.

The bounds tying together his paws had been severed in half, and they floated to the ground gently.

"You… You…" Ballantyne stammered, for once in his life at a loss for words. Caldwell swung again, this time severing the bounds on Ballantyne's footpaws.

"Wot are you doing, sah?" asked Tabbins, "Why are you letting that bally scum go?"

"Be quiet, Tabbins!" Caldwell roared, "You talked me into doing this! You persuaded me to 'spring the trap' or whatever it was you said! This is _our _fault!! All of it, ours! You stupid vermin, get out of here! NOW!! Before I change my mind!!!"

Levail, Sawdirge, and the others began a mad dash away from the hares as quickly as possible, stumbling and tripping over each other in a frenzy to get away. Deathblaze lay on the floor, motionless.

"Sir Deathblaze, we need to depart now," Ballantyne shouted, "The benevolent hare here had granted us our freedom… I do not wish to stray in the case that he has a change of heart."

"Don't give me that… posh!!!" Caldwell roared, trying to think of the right word, "Just get out of my sight!!!" The small sword swished forward, stopping dangerously close to Ballantyne's nose. Shouting one last time for Deathblaze, he too hurried off.

"Sah, why are you doing this?!" Tabbins exclaimed, "Those scum don't deserve to live! We should have slain 'em all here and now! Vermin will only come back, and I wouldn't put it past that treacherous ferret to already be making some sort of plan for another attack! We may have messed up, but the only reason this happened in the first place was because of that stupid weasel's horde!"

Caldwell shot the lieutenant a glare of absolute hatred. Deathblaze rose silently and slowly walked past the hares. As the stoat passed by the colonel, he muttered one word, indistinguishable to all. Nobeast paid him any heed. The word he had said had been "Sorry".

Behind Caldwell now, illuminated by the rising sun, was the vermin as they headed back to the only other place they knew: Castle Regner. Lagging slowly behind was Deathblaze, who had chosen to walk instead of run.

The colonel marched right up to Tabbins, his glare unfaltering. The other hares shirked away. "Lieutenant! I will not hear any talk of _execution_! The Long Patrol would never stoop so low as to execute anybeast! Never! Don't you remember that, Tabbins?! Do you want to know why I let them go?! Do you?!"

"Yes, actually, I do, sah," Tabbins replied quickly.

"Because if we weren't going to execute them, which I would never let you bloodthirsty fools do, then I never wanted to see them again! I didn't want to have to throw them in some cell, only to have to look at them every single blinking day of the rest of my life! I don't ever want to be reminded of what happened, Tabbins, because you and I are just as much to blame for this as them. Vermin have attacked Salamandastron before, even greater hordes, even better weapons. But you want to know the difference between then and now? Back then, there weren't stupid hares who decided that they knew everything and went off on their own little stupid tangents and messed up everything!!!"

Caldwell kicked the sand viciously. It flew up in Tabbins' face. Undisturbed, the lieutenant brushed the sand from his whiskers.

"I'm the leader of Salamandastron now," Caldwell growled, although much calmer than before, "And we are going to abide by the laws and codes of honor of the Long Patrol just as we did before, with no exceptions. None whatsoever. We're going to begin by cleaning out the bodies in the mountain. We will bury each hare personally; the vermin we can place in the sea and let the tide take them out. I don't want any complaints whatsoever, you hear me?! None!"

The hares looked at him blankly. Then, they all ran off to Salamandastron in a hurry, leaving only Caldwell and Mary.

"Don't worry, Mister Caldwell," Mary exclaimed innocently, "I'm sure those vermin are gone for good now! I think we've seen the last of them!"

END PART II

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**Author's Note (again): Yeah, pacifist ending there. Some of you may have been hoping for some gore, but there isn't a single death in this chapter (unless you count Golding's father in the flashback). I did this on purpose. I mean, why does every ending always have to have death and killing? Here's one where everything is resolved... sort of peacefully.**

**However, I promise I won't do this in Part III. Speaking of Part III, it goes back to some old characters from Part I: Conrad and his crew. It's easily the best part of the entire story, and rightfully so: I spent twenty-six chapters setting up for it. Oddly enough, Part III is also the least epic of all the stories. You aren't going to see giant vermin hordes or whatever. The main villain's army consists of twenty-three members, just to put it in perspective.**


	27. The Persuasion

**Author's Note: Here's Part III. It's quite different from the first two parts, which can be a good thing or a bad thing. It starts out with Part I characters, but later on, some Part II characters come back (not all, though; the Part II characters that don't return all show up in the Epilogue).**

**While I personally like this part the best, I'm pretty sure it's going to be a hit-or-miss type of thing. It's either the best or the worst. Well, I guess I'll let you decide that for yourself.**

* * *

XXVII: The Persuasion

Skrobb was a medium-sized rat with no particularly special talents or skills. He used to fight with a cutlass; but he hadn't gotten into any trouble like that for a long time now. And he was proud of that. Let those young fools go off and get themselves killed in some horde, fighting armies of hares and giant badgers and whatever. Skrobb was perfectly content living in his little corner of Mossflower woods. The only weapons he used now were a small knife for peeling fruits and a fishing pole for catching his dinners.

It was mid-day now; the beams of sunlight shining through the tree branches created a pleasant ambience. Skrobb sat down on a small log, eating an apple and enjoying his surroundings. He hadn't been bothered in over a season now by anybeast, and that was exactly the way he liked it.

Because of this, Skrobb was also taken aback when he suddenly found that he was sitting next to a fox. Dropping his apple, the rat jumped up, drawing his small knife. "Who are ye and wot're ye doin' 'ere? I don't like foxes. In fact, I don't like weasels or ferrets or stoats neither, an' I the only rat I like is meself. So git out of here if ya know wot's best fer ya!"

The fox also rose. He was tall and lean. Skrobb couldn't help but notice that he had at least six weapons strapped to him somewhere: swords, daggers, a hatchet, and a scimitar. And, knowing foxes, Skrobb wouldn't be surprised if he had a lot more weapons, concealed from the eye. Holding only his skimpy little knife, the rat hoped that the fox didn't intend on hurting him.

"I didn't come here just to leave right away, y'know," replied the fox snidely, "So, I think I'll just stay. You don't really want to fight me with that little knife, do ya?" The fox motioned with a paw at his collection of weapons. Skrobb shook his head. "Good. Now, put it down."

Reluctantly, the rat laid down his knife. If things started to get dangerous, his only hope would to make a run for it. He knew the surrounding area pretty well; there were a few hollowed-out trees or foliage-obscured holes he could hide in if it came to that.

"Okay, so far, you've been good enough. A lot of the creatures I've met with tried to get a few blows in at me. Unfortunately for both of us, I slew them," the fox shrugged, as if it really didn't matter. "So, what's yer name?"

"Skrobb," the rat muttered simply.

"Skrobb? What kind of name is that?" sneered the fox, "Oh, calm down. I'm just messing 'round with you. My name is Conrad. I lead a good-sized group of assorted… travelers. We roam around a bit, but we mostly stay in the woods here. Of course, that's probably gonna change pretty soon, but I'll tell ya more 'bout that later." The fox gave a slight wink.

Great, thought Skrobb, a whole band of them. He looked around, trying to see where the rest of them were hiding, but he couldn't pick them out. "Whaddya want? I don't got nuttin' at all yew can steal, so I don't know why yer here exactly. If yew want me to join yer little group, then the answer's no. I had enough of groups an' hordes an' all that. Ain't worth nuttin'. Yew think ya have friends, but they jus' turn 'round an' stab ya in the back! I ain't goin' back ta that."

Conrad frowned, folding his arms. "Aye, that may be so, but think of the benefits! Loot, plunder, gold, all of it is yours if ya jus' sign this paper here." The fox seemed to pull out a single scroll of parchment out of nowhere and held it right in front of Skrobb's nose. The rat took a step back.

"Paper? Yew think I know how ta read?!" growled Skrobb, "An' I ain't gonna join yer little group, treasure or not! I've been promised plenty o' treasure afore, more treasure than yew can even imagine, whole boats full o' treasure! An' I ain't never seen a lick of it, I tell ya! Not one single piece of gold!"

The fox quickly rolled the parchment up and stored it away, a look of annoyance on his face. "Look, we can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way. Cuz yer gonna join us, whether you want to or not, y'see?" Swiftly, he drew two swords simultaneously, one in each paw.

Skrobb was torn between his instinct to run and his instinct to go for his knife, which lay lifelessly by his footpaws. He chose the latter, dropping down, snatching up the small dagger, and slashing forward at Conrad's legs haphazardly.

The fox leapt back. Skrobb dove and imbedded the knife in Conrad's footpaw, transfixing it to the ground. The fox roared in pain, dropping his two swords. The clattered to the ground noisily.

The rat went for one of the swords to finish the fox off, but Conrad had already managed to get his scimitar. Skrobb rolled to the side as the curved blade slammed into the ground where he had been just seconds before.

Skrobb realized that now would be a good time to run, while the fox was stuck to the ground and injured. The rat turned and bolted, kicking up a small cloud of dirt in Conrad's face. He got halfway out of his little camp before a large green monster flew out of a bush and tackled him to the ground.

Conrad reached down and pulled the small knife out of his footpaw, discarding it as if it were trash. He put away his three weapons and limped over to the spot where Skrobb and the green monster were.

"As I said," the fox spat, his footpaw in extreme pain, "Yer gonna join, one way or… another. Ugh, why'd ya hafta go and stick that knife through my paw?"

Skrobb was on the ground, a sword up to his throat. He was being held there by a lizard wearing the tattered remnants of a white cloak, now gray and dirty. The rat looked terrified out of his wits.

"Y'know, Davian," Conrad continued, "If these stupid creatures would stop tryin' to get away and just join us, then we wouldn't have to be so rough with 'em. But no, they gotta try to run away and stick knives in my footpaws. This one's lucky he ain't dead. You got the shackles?"

Davian looked up at his master with an indifferent expression, holding up a set of metal shackles connected by chains. The lizard's leg had been amputated after it was destroyed beyond repair when he fell from the roof of the abbey. None of the creatures in Conrad's group knew anything about medicine (except Conrad's sister, who had apparently left a long time ago after swindling all her brother's money and leaving him for dead), so they had just taken an axe and lopped off the leg. None of his group had actually wanted the lizard to hang around them, but Conrad saw it as a good investment. Davian was quick, strong, and intimidating, as well as loyal. Just the kind of creature he needed in his ranks. Conrad always had to keep the good of his group in mind, even more than what his group wanted. And so far, Davian had not failed.

"Whaddya want with me?" Skrobb cried, "Yew ain't gonna kill me, are ya?"

Conrad laughed, although it was forced and fake. "Kill you? Of course not. If I wanted to kill ya, I would've done so already. Nah, I need you to help row my new ship, whenever I get it. Davian, can ya chain him up?"

The lizard quickly latched the shackles around Skrobb's paws, and then hoisted him up off of the ground. The rat looked dismal. "Yew mean yer gonna make me a galley slave?!" he exclaimed, a dismal look in his eye, "That's… That's almost worse than death! Forced to row all day an' all night, with little food an' water… It's… It's…" Skrobb was at a loss for words.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Conrad replied, rolling his eyes, "We would've gone for peaceful creatures, they always make better slaves, but we didn't want Redwall or sumthin' to find out an' go all crazy on us. Now, com'n, let's get back to camp. Yew can meet the other slaves ya gotta row with."

Conrad nodded to Davian. The lizard began pushing Skrobb along as Conrad led, trying to hide his limp as well as possible.

---

It grew dark. Conrad had his injured paw up on his desk in his makeshift tent, examining it. He knew nothing about healing. If his good-for-nothing sister hadn't gone and left, stealing everything he had and leaving him for dead, he'd probably have his paw all fixed up already. He guessed he'd need to check if any of the creatures they had captured to be slaves had any healing skills. None of them probably did; most were even illiterate. Conrad frowned. He strongly disliked illiteracy, which was why he had tried his best to teach his entire group how to read and write. Some of them had caught on quickly, while others, such as the addlebrained Swiss, couldn't even write their own name.

Conrad wrapped his footpaw with a bandage after cleaning the wound. That would have to do for now. It still stung when he walked, but not that much. The wound hadn't been as bad as he had previously thought. The knife he had been stabbed with hadn't been made for combat, and the wound was pretty small. He should be better in a few days, maybe a week.

"Hello, Mister Foxy," said a voice behind Conrad, "I am back, and with a couple of weaselly creatures! Two of them, exactly!"

The fox turned around to find himself face-to-face with his second-in-command, Weltsnout the rat. Weltsnout was short and stumpy, and had a goofy, harmless-looking grin on his face, but he was plenty dangerous. Conrad knew that from experience. The rat would make a good assassin.

"Two? That's pretty good, Weltsnout," Conrad replied kindly. Weltsnout smiled. It wasn't a very good idea to make Weltsnout angry. "What's that put our total at? Do you know?"

"Twenty-three, exactly, Mister Foxy," Weltsnout replied proudly, "Including that ratty you brought in with you earlier this morning. Those weasellies were very tricky to find, livin' in a big tree thing."

"Well, you did good to find 'em," Conrad said, smiling, "Now, go an' get yerself sumthin' to eat, an' make sure that the slaves are bein' guarded well enough, okay?"

Weltsnout saluted bizarrely and sped off. Twenty-three slaves. That was a good number. It was more than the number of creatures in his group, that was for sure. Now, if only Wemys and Limptail would report back, saying that they found a ship, then things would really be able to get going. As always, Conrad had the good of his group at the front of his mind. Mossflower wasn't really such a great place for vermin to live anymore. There weren't any other vermin around, it seemed, especially after Regner's horde had been routed at Salamandastron. And the ones that were still around didn't want to join any groups or hordes, like his twenty-three slaves.

So, he had decided to move north. He had heard that there were plenty of vermin there he could recruit into his band, enlarge his numbers. Of course, getting north wouldn't be easy. Lots and lots of hard, cold terrain, marshes, swamps, mountains, all kinds of obstacles. They'd all be dead before they even got there. That's when Conrad had thought up his ship idea. They'd hijack a ship and sail up north. They'd collect galley slaves and row their way up there. He got Wemys and Limptail to search the sea for any sign of corsair ships that might land, while the rest of the group went and 'persuaded' the vermin hiding in Mossflower to join them.

All they needed now was for Wemys and Limptail to report back. Conrad already had a plan for how to steal the ship; that wasn't an issue. But when would a ship ever arrive?

Swiss walked into the tent, holding his nose. "I loogged fer more slaves, bud all I found was this odder that knogged me silly! He broeg my nose!"

Conrad sighed in exasperation. "Swiss, just get out of here," he replied, growling. Swiss did as he was told quickly.

A few minutes past. And then Swiss ran back in. "What now?" asked Conrad in annoyance.

"Id's Limpdail, Conrad! He's bagg!"

A wide grin appeared on Conrad's face. Finally, he would have his ship.


	28. The Navigator

XXVIII: The Navigator

Conrad swiftly called a meeting after hearing of Limptail's return. Twelve creatures all crammed their way into Conrad's tent, including Swiss, Davian, Weltsnout, and, of course, Limptail himself. The only creatures who weren't there were Garland the ferret and Yugu the weasel, who were guarding the slaves. They weren't very important members of the group anyways, so Conrad didn't care about their absence.

Conrad sat at his desk, a single candle illuminating the entire tent. The fox didn't waste time in beginning his interrogation. He turned to Limptail and asked, "So, did you find me a ship?"

"Yeah, we did," replied the ferret. Limptail had been considerably luckier than Davian during the fall, only breaking a couple of ribs and an arm, and not very severely. He was fully healed now. "Me an' Wemys, we're walkin' along, lookin' fer ships, like ya said, Conrad. So, then we sees this one, way off in the distance. We waited fer it to get closer, an' it did. So, we hide behind this bush as the ship stops. Then, all these small little boats come from the big ship an' sail towards land, filled with searats all over. Then Wemys says that I oughtta go tell ya while he waits there, an' that's exactly what I did."

"This is good," Conrad said, smiling, "In no time at all, we'll be in the northlands, leadin' a huge horde of hundreds, maybe even thousands. I don't wanna waste any time, we don't know if those searats may leave. So, we're gonna break camp first thing tomorrow, ya got that? Weltsnout an' Davian, yer in charge of the slaves. Jeld, yer the supply chief, so make sure we don't accidentally leave anything behind. M—"

"Wait, wait, wait," interrupted Jeld, a stoat that was flipping a gold coin around in his paw as he stood in the corner of the tent, "Supply chief? When did I ever become a 'supply chief'? Wot exactly does a 'supply chief' do, anyway? It makes it seem like I actually hafta do sumthin'."

"A supply chief is just a creature that looks after all our things," Conrad explained. He never had much patience with Jeld, who gambled constantly and always won. Everybeast had learned not to let him entice them into any games, because they always lost their possessions, so Jeld had spent most of his time lately gambling with the prisoners, even though none of them really had anything to pay him with. "Since the only things we have is all yer useless knick-knacks that ya keep around fer some reason an' my tent, I figured that you'd be the best fer the job."

"'Ey, none o' that stuff I have is useless," Jeld shot back, holding his gold coin to his mouth and biting down on it nervously, "It's all got… personal value. Like that one pair o' dice, it's my lucky pair. And that one medal, it belonged to my father, y'know. Very important stuff, all o' it."

"Oh, please," muttered a female rat named Murkeye, "Ya swindled that medal off o' me in a rigged game. It belonged to _my _father!"

Jeld took a step back. "'Ey, I don't rig games. I play 'em all fair an' square." Several of the creatures in the tent rolled their eyes or coughed. "It's true, I tell ya!"

---

Outside, in the dark, were the two that had been assigned to look after the slaves, Garland the ferret and Yugu the weasel. The twenty-three slaves were all chained together, stuck in a small wooden pen. Garland leaned against a post casually, holding both a torch and a spear. Yugu stood silently in the dark, looking up at the moon. Her sword was still sheathed.

Garland yawned. "So, wot d'ya think they're talkin' 'bout in there?" he asked his partner, not really interested but bored enough to say it. Yugu merely shrugged, not even averting her gaze from up at the sky. Garland shrugged as well.

"I bet they're talkin' 'bout ways they can cook us up an' eat us!" exclaimed one of the prisoners, a mangy-looking stoat with wide, yellow eyes. Garland sighed. After guarding the prisoners for a while, he had gotten to know their mannerisms, and most of them just annoyed him.

"Ah, shut yer gob, Buvul," Garland snapped, "Yer not gonna get eaten. Yer just gonna have to row a boat fer a real long time. So shut up with all this stupid nonsense about how they're gonna cook ya an' stuff."

Buvul shirked away, avoiding questionable glances from some of the newer prisoners like Skrobb. Buvul had been one of the first to get captured, and he had been extremely paranoid ever since then, and possibly even before.

"I can't believe yew would do this," muttered a female weasel, one of the two that Weltsnout had just brought in that day, "We're just like yew. Why couldn't ya get some more peaceful creatures ta be yer slaves?"

"Be quiet, Reyla," whispered the other weasel Weltsnout had captured, this one male, "We don't want ta make any trouble with these beasts. We don't know wot they may try an' do."

"Lissen ta yer mate, Reyla," Garland announced, puffing his chest out boldly, "Yew don't wanna mess wit' me. I can put ya in a world of hurt!" He jabbed his spear forward quickly and slightly impressively. None of the prisoners said a word. Reyla and her mate began whispering things to each other rapidly. On the other side of the pen, Yugu stifled a snicker. Garland was as intimidating as a baby vole to her.

Then something caught Yugu's eye. She noticed a rustle of a few bushes just north of the pen. Quietly, she motioned to Garland and pointed at the bushes. It didn't take long for the ferret to notice the rustling either. He put out his torch and silently moved over to where Yugu was, gripping his spear tightly.

Yugu had drawn her sword. "Go check out the bush, Garland," she whispered, "Go put whatever's in there in a world of hurt or whatever you just said you do to creatures that mess with you."

Garland looked at the weasel skeptically. "We should go up there together. Safety in numbers an' all, y'know? It's only smart."

"Are you too afraid to go up there alone?" Yugu smirked. Now there was no way Garland could stay back.

"Fine, I'll go," muttered the ferret, not wanting to hurt his pride. Incredibly cautiously, he tip-toed up to the bushes, making sure not to step on a leaf or rock. Breathing as quietly as he could, he held out his spear and slowly prodded the bush at a distance. Nothing happened. Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, Garland slowly leaned over the bush, his spear trembling in his paws. There was nothing behind the bush, either.

Great, he thought, this is just like how it always happens. Then, right now, whatever was behind the bush will suddenly jump out at me and take off my head.

The ferret slowly turned around, and shook his head at Yugu. The weasel shrugged back. Then, suddenly, her eyes grew wide, and she pointed her paw at something behind Garland. The ferret froze in fear. Whatever it was, it was right behind him. Nervously, he craned his head backwards.

There was still nothing there.

He looked back at Yugu, who was laughing hysterically. Grumbling angrily, Garland stormed back to the pen. "Yeah, yeah, funny joke. Nearly scared me ta death, that's wotcha did. Ha, ha."

"I couldn't help myself," Yugu replied, still laughing, "You're so silly sometimes. Although, I do wonder what was making that rustling noise."

"Ah, don't try an' play me again," Garland snapped, "I know ya got Jeld or some other joker like him ta go an' rustle the bushes, an' then run back inta the woods. Yer always playin' these dumb jokes on me, an' it ain't funny."

"Nah, they all went into the tent to talk to Conrad, didn't you see?" Yugu pointed out. She was about to say something more when suddenly Buvul the stoat jumped up again, pointing at something on the other side of the pen and stammering uncontrollably.

Garland and Yugu both looked up immediately. There was some dark figure, obscured by shadows, that was slowly making his way across the camp, heading straight for Conrad's tent. "I betcha that's what was making the rustling noises!" Yugu exclaimed in a hushed whisper. Garland nodded. The figure slowly reached Conrad's tent, and then entered it without hesitation.

Garland and Yugu exchanged worried glances.

---

Jeld had now invoked the wrath of almost every member of the group. They had him pinned in his corner, all of them demanding their things back. Jeld still denied every having rigged any of his games, but the others were not listening. Conrad sat at his desk, annoyed. He decided he would step in soon.

"'Ey, I tolja, that game was—Owowowow! Leggo o' my ear, ya fiend! Yowch!"

They were so preoccupied with Jeld that none of them noticed when a newcomer walked right into the tent. He stood at the entrance, watching the events with mild interest. He went unnoticed for a long time, until Davian finally saw him.

"Who izz you?" asked the lizard. Suddenly, Jeld was relinquished and the entire group was looking at the new arrival.

He was a weasel, although it was kind of hard to tell. He wore an eyepatch and a goofily large pirate hat. All of his clothes seemed too big for him; the sleeves of his faded blue jacket went way past his paws, his eyepatch took up a good quarter of his face, and he was wearing boots that looked like they might fit a badger. There were no visible weapons on him, but there were numerous spots where they could have been concealed. Conrad looked at him apprehensively, although his appearance was joyful, and he looked unable of dealing harm.

"My name is Abren," the weasel replied, tipping his hat slightly, "I was the navigator of the ship _Battletide_. Perhaps you've heard of it, perhaps you haven't. Well, my ship crashed and sunk not too long ago, and I've been wandering about for a while now. A little bird told me that you are all planning on getting a ship and sailing. I'd like to join you."

Instantly, almost every creature in the tent whipped out their weapons and pointed them at Abren. Weltsnout chuckled. "Heh, we always got room fer another slavey in our crew," he announced.

"Put yer weapons down, ya morons!" shouted Conrad, "Didn't ya hear him?! He's a navigator! That's at least ten times as useful as a single slave! Abren, of course you can join our crew. But I wanna know what ya want in return before we do anything officially."

"Mebbe he can be zlave _and_ navergater," Davian suggested. Conrad merely glared at him, and the lizard was silent.

"What I want?" Abren repeated, "I just want to be back on the sea again. I can't live without it, almost. Yeah, I know it's silly, but—"

Abren suddenly slumped over, unconscious. Standing behind him was Garland, who had hit the unfortunate weasel over the head with his spear. "I got that 'un, Conrad! Ya don't hafta worry now, I snuck up behind him and knocked him out!"

The other vermin all just stared at the ferret blankly.

* * *

**Author's Note: You may begin to notice that the characters who were important in Part I, Wemys, Davian, and Limptail, are being overshadowed by these new guys. If you haven't, that's okay; you'll probably really see it next chapter, or the one after that. Either way, I do that on purpose.**

**Also, does something seem fishy about this new Abren character? I sure hope so. ;)**


	29. The Ship

**Author's Note: Abren is a weasel, something that's actually kinda important. ;)**

**Also, this is easily the most light-hearted chapter in the whole story. Enjoy it while it lasts- two chapters from now, everything goes to hell. Ha ha ha.**

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XXIX: The Ship

Captain Tronto fancied himself to be the most feared searat of all time, even though he really wasn't anywhere close to being that. Still, he was no pushover. He had risen to power by being the biggest and most cunning rat in the entire crew of the _Bloodrider_, the fine craft that Wemys and Limptail had seen and that Conrad planned to steal for himself. Tronto knew neither of those things, however, so he continued doing things the way he had always done them: four or five rats left behind to guard the ship, while the rest of the crew, numbering about eighty, went onshore to plunder and pillage.

That's just what they were doing now. At least, that's what they were trying to do. They had been aimlessly wandering around in this forest for the entire day, and hadn't yet found a single, solitary anything.

"Yarr, mebbe nobeast lives in these parts, cap'n!" exclaimed the steersrat of the _Bloodrider_, Coldfur, "We ain't seen a single soul this whole time!"

"Be quiet, ya fool!" Tronto shouted, "I betcha we ain't seen nuttin' cuz yew keep scarin' 'em away, shoutin' like that an' all!"

Coldfur said nothing, instead opting to slink away from his captain. Tronto continued romping through the trees, searching for a village to pillage.

However, his crew was complaining. A flurry of moans and groans came from the center of the crew, where Tronto wouldn't be able to see who had the gall to whine about his orders.

"We've been walkin' all day!"

"There ain't nuttin' out here!"

"Let's move on farther north!"

Tronto turned and snarled at all of them. What was so good about the far north? It was just cold and snowy! But now, they were complaining in full force. And they were partly right; it didn't seem like anybeast inhabited this part of the world.

"Fine, then!" he shouted, "We're goin' back! But I don't wanna here a peep outta any of yew on the way back, ya got that? Not one peep!"

---

The _Bloodrider _sat unmoving in the water, just a bit off from the beach. Wemys had been watching it intently for a day or so now, waiting for Conrad to show up. If the fox came now, then they wouldn't even have to do the complicated plan he had made in order to steal the ship, which included a lot of diversions, risks, and good acting, since there were only about five rats guarding the ship. There were even a bunch of little boats on the beach that they could use to get to the ship.

As if on cue, Conrad made his appearance. "Hello, Wemys," he exclaimed to the young stoat, whose back was turned to the fox, "Good job on findin' that ship."

Wemys jumped and span around. Conrad had given him a bit of a scare. "Uhh… Yeah, I guess. Look, there's only five rats on there, guardin' it. The rest are out, doin' something. I dunno what. But if we move now, we should be able to take the ship without any trouble whatsoever."

Behind Conrad appeared the rest of the group- Limptail, Weltsnout, Swiss, Davian, Jeld, and the rest, along with the twenty-three prisoners, who were being goaded along by Garland and Yugu. There was also somebeast Wemys didn't recognize; a weasel dressed in very large clothing.

Abren saw Wemys, too, as he massaged the lump on his head. He had reacted jovially to his injury; it had just been a misunderstanding, that was all. The rest of the group had all expected there to be a big fight between him and Garland, but there wasn't. Garland had breathed a sigh of relief after that.

The navigator froze. Wemys looked exactly like a stoat he had used to know. Perhaps… No, he couldn't ask now, and maybe blow his cover. He had to keep under his alias as long as possible, or something bad could happen.

"Who's that?" Wemys asked, pointing at Arlen.

"It's just our navigator. We met him last night," Conrad replied quickly, "Now, Wemys says that there's very few guards up there right now, so I say we don't waste any time and get going. Any complaints?" There were none. "Good. Now, we're gonna get to those little boats right there on the beach, an' row 'em towards the ship. Weltsnout an' Davian, make sure none of the slaves try to escape, okay?"

"Alla the slaveys are chained together," Weltsnout pointed out, frowning, "We can't fit 'em all on one liddle boaty, no way."

"Then fit 'em on two, or three, or however many it takes," Conrad said, "Just keep all the boats close enough, and you shouldn't have any trouble. Now, I'm gonna be on the boat on front, which is the boat that's gonna have to take out the guards. So I don't just want ya to scramble on willy-nilly, I want the best fighters with me. Weltsnout an' Davian, once ya get the slaves on their boats, get yerselves on my boat. Garland an' Yugu can watch the prisoners, so don't worry. Jeld, I want ya with me as well, an' also Curvetail. An'… Kleid, yer good with a bow, yew can take out the guards as we're sailin' up to 'em. So, you five will come with me, ya got that? The rest of ya, I don't care where ya go, as long as ya get on a boat an' don't muck anythin' up. Any questions?"

"Uh, one," interjected Curvetail, a tall, lanky weasel, "How're we s'posed ta get up onta the boat from those liddle tiny boats in the water?"

"Good question," Conrad replied, realizing that he didn't quite have an answer to it, "Does anybeast know how we could get up there?"

Everybeast began shrugging or murmuring among themselves. Jeld, however, opened his rather large pack and began fishing through it. He sifted amongst all of the things he had won over the seasons by gambling. There were medals, pieces of gold, heirlooms, all sorts of things. What he was looking for wasn't there. Undeterred, the stoat realized he must have put it with all the weapons he had won. He grabbed a second, even larger bag that was being carried by a creature named Tadds, a weak, wimpy rat that Jeld had pressed into carrying all of his stuff by claiming it'd be promotion from "Regular Old Rat" to "Assistant to the Supply Chief".

Jeld opened his second pack and looked through it as well, this time much more carefully. Many times, the creatures he gambled with didn't have any heirlooms or trinkets to give him when they lost, so he had taken their weapons. He had all sorts of things in there: Swords, throwing knives, regular knives, a couple of axes, a pair of bolas, a bow with a set of arrows, and a hammer. Finally he found what he was looking for. Cautiously reaching into the pack, he pulled out a steel grappling hook attached to a long rope.

"Will this do?" asked the stoat, tossing the grappling hook to the floor. Conrad examined it carefully, and then nodded, a sly smile on his face.

"Now, are we ready?" asked the fox. There was a murmur of yes and a lot of nodding. "Then, let's go."

The forty of them suddenly began running down the beach towards the set of small boats. The prisoners stumbled and tripped, holding up the entire line, but Weltsnout and Davian kept them going.

Conrad, who was in the lead, leapt onto one boat, followed by Jeld. The five rats guarding the boat had all noticed them now, and were frantically trying to figure out what to do in the face of the approaching army.

Davian forced the first few prisoners onto a boat. They collapsed in a heap over each other. Garland jumped on top of them, pushing the boat out of the sand and into the water. Yugu pushed two empty boats into the water, jumping into the second one, and the two of them tried to get the three boats close enough as the rest of the prisoners were shoved onto them.

Weltsnout, who had been urging the slaves on from the back, was beginning to get annoyed with the straggling prisoner at the rear, Buvul. The panicked stoat kept tripping and falling and screaming like a madbeast. Weltsnout, tired of this, simply picked up Buvul and began running along with the prisoners himself. He threw Buvul onto the third boat, with the stoat still screaming.

"Push it off!" yelled Conrad from his own little boat, which now also had the two weasels Curvetail and Kleid on it as well. As Davian and Weltsnout ran to join them, Garland and Yugu began paddling the three boats as fast as they could, which wasn't very fast. "Get the slaves to help you two!"

Garland followed Conrad's orders, yelling for the prisoners to paddle as well. Chained together, it was difficult, but there were enough of them to make up for that. The slaves had all been successfully put on the boats and were now heading for the ship in one big caravan.

Davian and Weltsnout jumped onto Conrad's boat, which also had taken off. Jeld, Conrad, and Curvetail began paddling rapidly as Kleid readied her bow. Next to them was a boat that was filled with Wemys, Swiss, Limptail, and Tadds, as well as both of Jeld's bags. The last boat was being led by Abren, and had the other four members of Conrad's group on it.

One of the rats on the deck of the _Bloodrider _had grabbed a large horn and began blowing into it, creating an ear-splitting noise. "He's callin' fer help!" Conrad shouted, "Kleid, take him out!"

"Aye, aye, Conrad!" Kleid replied. The weasel pulled back her bowstring and let an arrow fly. It struck the rat in the chest, and he toppled over the edge of the ship, taking the horn with him.

The other four rats, not having any projectile weapons, had smartly moved into the center of the ship, unable to be hit by arrows. Conrad urged the others to paddle harder, as they'd have to fight the rest paw-to-paw.

The three boats filled with the prisoners were lagging behind. "We shoulda gotten a fourth boat!" yelled Yugu. Garland noticed with dismay that his boat was slowly sinking.

Conrad pulled his boat alongside the ship. Jeld threw his grappling hook up. It hit the side of the ship with a clinking noise. "Who's gonna go first?" he asked nervously, hoping it wouldn't be him.

"It's yer rope, yew go up," Curvetail shouted. Jeld frowned.

"Don't worry," Kleid reassured, notching another arrow to her bow, "I'll cover ya."

"An' I'll be right behind ya," Curvetail added. Begrudgingly, Jeld grabbed the rope and began climbing up. When he had gotten half of the way to the edge of the ship, Wemys' boat had already paddled up.

Jeld reached the edge of the ship. He was almost completely into it when one of the rats charged at him, cutlass poised to lop off Jeld's head. He didn't even get close before one of Kleid's arrows buried itself into his neck.

Jeld climbed into the ship and drew his saber. The other three rats all converged on him, running in a triangle formation of sorts. The formation was shattered when another of Kleid's arrows took out the rat to the left. The other two dodged back to the center of the ship, out of Kleid's line of fire.

Curvetail then climbed into the ship and drew his own sword. The two rats backed up against a mast, not daring to charge them.

"Lay down yer weapons an' we'll letcha go," Curvetail announced. The two rats exchanged glances, and then threw down their cutlasses. Jeld quickly seized them, wanting to add them to his collection.

"Now, yer gonna let us go, right?" one of the rats asked.

"Yeah, o' course," Curvetail replied, "I'll let yew two go straight ta Hellgates." He quickly ran both of them through, then pushed the bodies unceremoniously over the edge of the ship, laughing to himself.

Weltsnout was in the ship now. "What?!" he exclaimed, "No ratties left fer me? No fun!" He stormed to the other side of the ship angrily.

Conrad, Davian, and Kleid followed. "So this is my ship now, eh?" announced the fox, "Yes… I am now Captain Conrad! How's that sound, Weltsnout?" He turned to his second-in-command. The rat simply shrugged quickly. Curvetail discovered a set of stairs to belowdecks and walked down them.

"I owe ya one," Jeld said to Kleid, "Ya saved my life back there, twice!"

The weasel simply shrugged, shouldering her bow. "How 'bout ya give me back that bracelet ya stole from me in that one dice game? It belonged to my grandmother," she muttered.

"Uh… I'll think 'bout that," Jeld replied as Wemys climbed onboard.

Curvetail's voice echoed from belowdecks. "'Ey, Conrad! Ya oughtta take a good look at wot's down here! These rats had their own galley slaves, it looks like!"

Conrad hurried down, followed by the others who had made it onboard already. The stairs led to a room where the galley slaves were set to do their paddling. In pairs of two where dismal-looking mice, voles, otters, squirrels, hedgehogs, and other such creatures, all chained up. There were about forty of them in all.

"Why'd we need our own slaves, Conrad? There's plenty o' 'em here already!" announced Curvetail, shaking the shoulder of a squirrel that was ragged to the bone. "We can use those ones we caught as our crew!"

"No, ya idiot!" Conrad shouted, "Jeld, find the keys for the chains they're all stuck in. We're settin' 'em all free. The whole reason we got rats an' weasels an' such to be the rowers was because we didn't want the Long Patrol or Redwall to find out an' get all mad at us! An' I still don't want that! Jeld, you find those keys yet?"

The stoat handed out a huge set of keys, which jingled and jangled wildly. "Wait, so you're really going to let us go?!" exclaimed a mouse in disbelief.

"Yeah, yeah, ya don't have to paddle any oars no more," Conrad said, unlocking a lock and setting a whole slew of creatures free, "But I ain't gonna let ya stay on the ship, there ain't enough food. So, yer gonna hafta swim back to shore yerselves. Think ya can do that?"

The former slaves nodded as Conrad unlocked another set of chains. "If we can survive the conditions those dirty searats put us through on here," announced an otter proudly, "We can swim a few feet to shore."

"That's easy for you to say, you're an otter!" shouted a hedgehog, "How am I s'posed to get to shore?"

"Oh, be quiet," Conrad snapped, "We have a few small boats you can get in if ya can't swim." He unlocked a final set of chains. "Now, get out of here!"

"Conrad!!" shouted Swiss and Limptail in unison as they dashed down the stairs. Swiss tripped and fell flat on his face.

"Conrad!" Limptail repeated, "It's the rats! They're comin' back fer us! They're getting' into the rest of the little boats an' sailin' straight at us!"

"Ah, great!" Conrad spat. He pushed past Jeld and Kleid and marched up the stairs, stepping over Swiss as he tried to get back up. On the top of the deck now was Tadds, who had somehow managed to get both of Jeld's bags up the rope, and Abren, who was helping up the other four members in his little boat.

On the shore was Captain Tronto, who was fuming and yelling in an absolute furor as he ordered his crew to board the remaining boats and regain the _Bloodrider_. They had been moving back slowly, but when they heard the horn of alarm, Tronto had dashed back. What he saw had made him furious.

Abren helped up the last one of the creatures on his boat, and Yugu attempted to pull her small caravan against the side of the ship, without much avail. The prisoners were all screaming and yelling hysterically, despite Garland's best efforts to calm them down. Yugu finally got the boats close enough, and swiftly shimmied up the rope, her lithe and thin body making the task easy.

Garland tried to clamber past the distraught prisoners to get to the rope before them, but he was too late, as the first of the prisoners (Reyla, being helped by her mate) had already begun to climb up. Garland became nervous. Now he'd have to wait for every single prisoner to get up before he could, considering that they were all connected. And there were about eight boats filled with searats paddling right at him.

As Tronto stayed behind on the beach while the rest of his crew fought, the bosun Coldfur had been stuck with the unfortunate job of leading the first boat back to the ship. His little boat got only about halfway there before he was struck down by one of Kleid's arrows. The weasel had grabbed her bow again and was firing like crazy. The rats were so closely packed together on the boats, though, that it was hard to miss.

Jeld opened up his pack of weapons and reached his paw in quickly. He cut it on a sword, but ignored the pain as he fished out his own little bow. Running up beside Kleid, he notched an arrow and pulled back the bowstring. The arrow fell out of the bow before he had even let go. He scrambled down to pick it back up, but Kleid snapped, "If yew don't know how to arch, then don't try! See if there's some other creature here who can use a bow!"

The stoat rushed back, yelling, "Is there anybeast who can arch?!" He was not getting any responses.

Conrad turned to the former galley slaves, who were still down belowdecks. "Yer all goin' overboard, now!" he yelled.

"What?! We'll just be recaptured!" shouted a vole, "You got to let us stay here for now! You can always just drop us off somewhere later! It doesn't matter where, as long as it's far away from that wretched Tronto!"

"Conrad, we don't have time to argue!" Wemys exclaimed, "We need to get Garland an' the rest up here, right now!"

"Fine, then!" Conrad snarled, "You all stay down there an' don't get in our way, okay? An' then we'll let ya go!"

Half of the slaves had managed to get on board. Weltsnout and Curvetail were now heaving them up by the chains one by one. Down below, on his half-sunken boat, Garland helped by pushing them up. Of course, Buvul, in the back of the group, was giving them immense trouble.

"Get over here, ya stupid stoat!" Garland growled at the shivering Buvul, who was curled up in one of the boats, "Get over here or we're all gonna die!!" He yanked on the chain angrily. Buvul didn't budge.

"Garland, get that slavey over here!" Weltsnout yelled, "He's holdin' back the rest of 'em!"

"Everybeast, DUCK!" shouted Kleid. Instinctively, every creature on board did as instructed. A flurry of arrows passed by overhead, embedding themselves in the bowsprit. "They're shootin' arrows now, too!"

"If ya aren't helpin' out up here, then go belowdecks!" Conrad ordered. Swiss ran up and looked ready to say something. "An' no, Swiss, ya aren't helpin'! Get below, now!" In a frantic dash, most of the creatures abovedecks ran for the stairs. Most of the chained prisoners got down, but the ones that still hadn't climbed up were holding a lot of them back, creating a stretched line of chain. Weltsnout, Curvetail, and Jeld all helped to pull chain.

Buvul suddenly felt his chain begin to tug against him hardly. "It's a sea monster! It's a sea monster, it's got it's tentacles on me! It's goin' to eat meeeeeeee!" The chains became very tight and Buvul was lifted off from the small boat, screaming and wailing. As Buvul, the last of the prisoners, was finally lifted over the edge of the ship, Garland began his ascent.

Another flurry of arrows came. One struck Weltsnout in the leg, another nicked Curvetail's ear, and about five went right for the still-climbing Garland. The ferret hugged the rope tightly, closing his eyes. The five arrows soared right past him, not a single one hitting him.

"You'll hafta do better 'n that to kill me, sea scum!" Garland shouted in triumph. He resumed his climbing, only to find that the rope he was holding onto had partially been severed by one of the arrows. Garland stared at the half-cut rope dumbly for a second. Then the rope broke. "Ah, why does this always happen ta—"

Garland hit the ocean with a loud splash. "Garland!!!" shouted Jeld. The ferret resurfaced, thrashing around wildly. He couldn't swim. "We need another rope, quickly!!"

Jeld ran back to his dual packs, looking for another rope to throw down to Garland. Weltsnout, however, had a better idea. Pulling the arrow out of his leg (and muttering "stupid arries"), he picked up the sniveling Buvul and threw him overboard.

"Gaah!! The sea monster is pullin' me back in!!! Help meeeeeeee!!!" Buvul screamed, dangling a few feet above the ocean surface. Garland spat out a mouthful of water and grabbed Buvul's tail. The stoat screamed in both fear and pain and he was suddenly jerked back up, along with Garland.

Both of them crashed back onto the deck, Garland soaking wet and Buvul spouting frenzied gibberish. "Get rowin', now!!" Conrad shouted, "I don't care who does it, just get us out of here!!"

Down belowdecks, a myriad of creatures jumped onto the seats and began rowing. Swiss, Wemys, the new slaves, the old slaves, all of them began rowing as fast as they could in a haphazard, crazy manner.

The ship began to move away, much quicker than the small boats were going. Very quickly, they began falling behind, until not even their arrows could reach the ship. Back on the beach, Captain Tronto, now stripped of his ship, screamed, "I'll getcha fer this! Nobeast crosses Cap'n Tronto and lives ta tell the tale!! Yarr!!!"

On the deck, everybeast began to laugh jovially.

* * *

**Second note: Captain Tronto never reappears in this story, EVER. He doesn't even get a cameo in the Epilogue, like pretty much every character in Part II and all the other characters who had some loose ends to tie up. Just another funny thing done with another random minor character. You'll notice a lot of weird junk going on with the minor characters in the Part (and there are a lot of them). In fact, there are very few minor characters in the part WITHOUT some kind of strange quirk.**


	30. The Slaves

XXX: The Slaves

Conrad stopped the ship when it was a safe distance away from shore and dropped the anchor. They needed to get organized before they continue. Conrad couldn't stand it when things weren't organized. Haphazardly going places did not suit him. He wanted to make sure everybeast knew what they were doing, and where they were going. So, he called for a meeting of every creature onboard.

The fox had them all stand in their own little groups. On the port side of the ship were the old slaves, now released by Conrad's generous paw. On the starboard side of the ship were the new slaves, all captured by Conrad's iron will. In the center of the ship was the crew, numbering seventeen including Conrad himself.

"Now, I've got some business I need to tell ya," Conrad yelled, standing at the front of the ship proudly, "First order of business: No more of just callin' me 'Conrad'. It's either 'Cap'n Conrad', or "Cap'n', or 'sir'. Ya got that? Nuttin' else."

"Aye, aye, Cap'n Conrad!" saluted Swiss. Conrad ignored him.

"Second order of business: My crew. Weltsnout, yer goin' to be the first mate, which is basically just the second-in-command, so nuttin's changed there. Jeld, yer still the supply chief, an' I guess Tadds is still yer assistant."

"Ooh, Cap'n Conrad, can I be the steersrat?!" asked Swiss anxiously.

"How can yew be the steersrat?" Curvetail snapped, "Yew ain't even a rat! Yer a fancy pine marten, or wotever they're called."

"A pine marten?" scoffed one of the new slaves, a ferret named Telson, "That isn't no pine marten! An' trust me, I seen one afore! They got these bushy tails, and these ugly pointed faces. I used ta fight alongside one, name was Molfe, nice enough feller until he got his head lopped off in some battle or another. Ooh, his guts went _everywhere_! All over the pl—"

"Ah, nobeast asked yew," Curvetail snapped, "I'm tellin' ya, Swiss is a pine marten. So, if he were to steer the tiller, he'd be called a steers-pine-marten, and that jus' doesn't sound right."

"Why don'tcha jus' ask him wot he is himself?" Telson snapped.

"Cuz he don't know! Do ya, Swiss?" Curvetail smiled and chuckled. Swiss merely shrugged.

"Ahem," Conrad interrupted, "Swiss, ya can't be the steersrat, or the steers-pine-marten, or the steers-something. I wouldn't trust ya with something that requires ya to be so… focused. So, Abren's gonna be our steersweasel, considering that he's also our navigator. I just thought that it'd make sense that way."

"So, um, what can I be?" Swiss asked hopefully.

"Yew can be annoying, that's fer sure," grumbled one of the crew, a weasel named Crowley. General laughter followed this. Conrad waited for it to subside before continuing.

"As I was sayin'," the fox muttered, "Abren's gonna steer the tiller an' navigate. That's the whole reason why he's here. Now, Murkeye's gonna be the cook, considering she already was afore. Curvetail can be the bosun, whatever that is. I sure don't know. You know, Abren?"

The weasel shrugged. "There was one on my old ship," he said, his large hat bobbing up and down, "But I don't know exactly what he did."

"Well, once we figure it out, Curvetail's gonna be it," Conrad announced, "What does that leave…? Kleid, yer gonna be the lookout, ya got a good eye. Garland an' Yugu, yer both gonna guard the slaves, like ya did afore. Crowley, you can be the… er… ship musician, yer good with music."

"Yeah, but Jeld won all my instruments in gambles," Crowley muttered.

"Speak up," Conrad snapped, "I can never hear what ya say, yer always mumbling. Except when ya sing, of course. Now, moving on, that only leaves a few of ya… Ah, you'll just do odd jobs 'round the deck, whatever I need done. Ya got that?"

"Can I be the head odd jobber?" Swiss asked.

"Fine! Just don't bug me! Oh, an' one last thing. Davian, yer big an' scary, you'll be the slave driver."

The lizard was expressionless, but many of the slaves groaned. "I do az azked, Cap'n Conrad!" Davian announced, standing at attention as he had done when he served King Kirrent, a season and a half ago.

"Now, that brings me to my third an' final order of business: the old slaves. Yer lucky enough I let ya all stay on here, I shoulda just thrown the whole lot of ya overboard back when we were fightin'. We're gonna go north a ways an' drop you off, ya got that? You'll be gone afore the end of today, I promise. Now, until then, I don't wanna hear a single word from you lot, considering how nice I've been to ya."

The old slaves all nodded simultaneously, none daring to speak. Conrad motioned to Garland and Yugu, and they began leading the new slaves down to the galley, where they could get settled in and start rowing. The old slaves felt sympathetic for them, considering they had just been trapped, doing the same thing, but not one was about to speak up against Captain Conrad. Plus, most of those slaves had probably thought it fun to kill and hurt, and deserved what they were getting.

Garland, now sufficiently dried off, prodded Buvul with his spear. The stoat rubbed his aching tail and moved forward, giving the ferret a wary glance. Yugu walked in front, having them all sit in benches, two to a bench.

"Com'n, lovebirds, siddown," she snapped at Reyla and her mate, sitting them in the first bench. Then she forced Skrobb and a fat stoat into the next bench, and a couple of vermin the next, and so on, and so on. Lastly, both she and Garland shoved Buvul and his unfortunate partner, an annoyed-looking rat, into the last bench.

"There's still more benches," Garland pointed out.

"Like I didn't already know that," Yugu shook her head in exasperation, "Garland, you're pretty dumb sometimes. Now, it don't matter that not every bench is filled, it just means we won't go as fast, but there's less of us altogether anyways, so we'll probably end up goin' the same speed, since we won't weigh the ship down as much."

"Uhh… Wotever," Garland replied.

Davian slowly walked down the stairs, his peg leg hitting every step with a dull thud. The slaves watched on silently as their new slave driver descended. The lizard's yellowed fangs were exceptionally sharp-looking, his claws likewise. His eyes rolled around madly as he inspected the prisoners. He reached the bottom step, looked directly at garland, and spoke, in a dry, threatening hiss, "How I zlave drive?"

Garland was taken off-guard. "Um… Well… Ya take that whip o'er there, an' ya whip the slaves ta make 'em row faster." He pointed at one wall, where a coiled-up whip was hanging lifelessly.

Davian grabbed the whip and examined it closely for a few moments. Then, completely unexpectedly, he swung it. The whip cracked right on the face of Reyla's mate, slicing it open directly down the middle. Reyla's mate screamed in pain, covering his face with his shackled paws.

Reyla shrieked out in terror. "Karder! Look wot ya did ta pore Karder! Oh, he's bleedin' bad! Somebeast, help!" She attempted to help Karder wipe the blood from his face. Davian looked down at his whip as if it were something magical.

"Who izz next?!" he shouted, swinging the whip again. It cracked, this time only in mid-air, but the slaves got the message. Immediately, they all began to row as quickly as they possibly could.

"That lizard's a natural," Yugu murmured to Garland, "I wish I were that talented, maybe then I wouldn't have to be paired with you so much as I am." She let out a slight chuckle.

"Now, wot's that s'posed ta mean?" Garland demanded as Damian cracked his whip again, "Yew sayin' that yew don't like workin' wit' me? Yew ain't never complained afore!"

"Nah, I love workin' with you, you're so silly," Yugu remarked as Davian whipped Buvul for not rowing fast enough, "It's so fun to pull those little practical jokes on you… You react to 'em so perfectly."

Garland frowned. "Wotever, Yugu. Wotever."

---

Now that the ship had finally begun to move again, Abren had gone to the tiller, and was now steering it. Conrad had wanted to go north. Well, that wasn't exactly the direction they were heading. Abren smiled. This was the kind of plan Ballantyne would make, he was sure of it. And he guessed that was a good thing. Ballantyne's plans had always been successful.

"'Ey, Abren!" exclaimed Jeld, who had walked up to the weasel and taken a seat, "Ya wanna play a card game?" The stoat held out a deck of cards, each with the face of some famous vermin warlord on them- Cluny the Scourge, Slagar the Cruel, Ublaz Mad Eyes, and many others.

"Eh, sure," Abren replied. He had already gotten the ship moving in the right direction. Well, at least, the right direction for him. "Y'know, Ublaz was a pine marten." After Abren had said this, Jeld simply looked at him blankly.

"Wot?"

"Ublaz. On the card." Abren held up the card with the picture of the famous corsair on it. "This is a pine marten. You can compare it to your friend; the one nobeast seems to know what he is."

Jeld grabbed the card and examined it closely. "Heh, the… eyes…" Jeld froze, as if hypnotized, and then began to slowly sway back and forth. Abren quickly snatched the card back.

"I guess they didn't call him Mad Eyes for nothing," Abren muttered, glancing over the card skeptically, "So, do you think your friend is a pine marten or not?"

"Uh, well, that Ublaz character on the card is too pretty, nuttin' like Swiss. He's all dressed up too fancy, too. I still can't really tell, although I can see the resemblance, all right. Now, ya wanna play?"

Neither of them had noticed, but Crowley had snuck up behind him. He had always been sour at Jeld for swindling all of his instruments, every last one (and he had had quite a few; Crowley was surprised that the stoat didn't have his own bag just for his instruments). Now, stuck in a job that made him have nothing to do, he decided he'd entertain the new addition to the crew.

"'Ey, afore ya begin, Jeld," the weasel suddenly appeared, shocking the gambler, "How 'bout ya let me show yer new friend a magic trick wit' those cards. Hand 'em ta me, please."

Jeld quickly gave Crowley his deck of cards. Turning back to Abren, he whispered, "Ya oughtta watch this. Crowley's got good magic tricks. I wonder which one he'll do… There's the one where he had ya draw a card, an' then there's the one where he makes a card hover in the air…"

"Okay, I'm going to make this deck of cards disappear afore yer very eyes," Crowley sneered, "Watch very carefully." Suddenly, Crowley flicked his wrist, and the entire deck flew over the side of the ship. The cards fluttered down into the water, where they floated around slowly. Laughing, Crowley strolled away casually.

"That was my lucky deck, ya swine!" Jeld shouted. Crowley's laughter merely increased in magnitude as he walked to the other side of the deck.

"That was… some trick," Abren said.

Jeld reached into his cloak and pulled out a completely identical deck. "Good thing I keep a whole slew o' these, or else I wouldn't be able ta play any o' my card games! So, how 'bout we get that game goin'? Course, yer gonna hafta wager sumthin' first."

"I'm just a beginner, I'll probably lose," Abren pointed out, "I don't want to bet anything valuable."

"Then don't," Jeld replied, shrugging, "Bet wotever ya want ta bet, if that's the case."

"Well, I really don't have anything that I'd really want to wager and possibly lose," Abren explained, "How about we just sit here and talk? I want to know a few things about Conrad and the rest of the crew."

"Nah, that ain't part of the bargain," Jeld responded, "If yer not gonna play cards wit' me, then I'm jus' gonna go back and ensure none o' my supplies are stolen or anything, ya never know with characters such as Crowley roamin' 'round. Either ya bet sumthin' or I'm gone."

Abren frowned. He contemplated just letting Jeld go and trying to coax the information he needed out of somebeast else, but Jeld was loose-tongued and likely to tell him everything without too much trouble. Silently, he pulled a dagger out of one of his incredibly long sleeves and slammed it into the deck point first.

"I'll bet this. And in return, I want that saber of yours. It's a very nice saber."

"Oh, this?" Jeld exclaimed, holding out his weapon, "I got this jus' recently. Got it from some half-dead weasel, crawlin' along the ground. His legs were all butchered up. He was wearin' this beat-up golden armor, too, an' I considered takin' that, but y'know, the pore creature was prob'ly gonna die soon anyways, an' at least that armor was keepin' him sorta safe…"

Abren looked at the stoat silently. Jeld bit his gold coin nervously, then tossed his saber down onto the ship deck before shuffling his deck of cards.

"So," Abren said, breaking the silence, "About that one stoat, Wemys… Did he have an older brother or something?"

Jeld immediately stopped shuffling his cards. "How'd ya know?" he muttered quietly.

"Because he looked exactly like a stoat I used to work with. Can you describe this brother to me? What was his name?"

Jeld chewed on his golden coin a bit before answering. "His name was Percival. He was really big, an' he was always mad, except every once in a while he'd stop bein' mad and instead be really sad. It was really weird. We was all 'fraid of him, thought he'd chop us all inta pieces in our sleep. Then, 'bout five seasons ago, maybe a bit more 'n that, he jus' up an' left. Never saw him again. He still alive?"

"I'm afraid not," Abren replied somberly, "He died fighting the Long Patrol." Percival? Deathblaze was actually named Percival? Well, Abren didn't blame him for changing his name… But, still…

"Ah, that's too bad," Jeld replied, "At least he died doin' sumthin' he loved, fightin'. I guess I oughtta tell Wemys."

"Nah, not now," Abren quickly said, "Maybe later. But now's not the time. I also don't feel like playing that card game anymore, although I would've liked to win that saber. It's very nice." The weasel grabbed the dagger he had slammed into the deck and hid it back into his oversized jacket. Jeld did likewise with his saber and deck of cards.

"Well, uh, nice meetin' ya," the stoat said, standing back up, "See ya later." Then, he quickly marched off.

---

Lounging on the top of the deck were all the creatures that didn't have to do anything at the moment- Swiss, Wemys, Limptail, Crowley, Curvetail, and the last two members of the crew, Rebule the ferret and Lersot the rat. All seven of them (well, six; Swiss didn't really notice anything at all) had been watching Jeld and Abren's conversation, although none of them could hear what exactly was being said. Then, Jeld had walked off in a hurry, going to his room to check up on Tadds and his supplies.

"Sumthin' got Jeld in a huff," Crowley pointed out astutely.

"Now, as the head odd jobber, that makes me in charge of all of you, right?" Swiss suddenly said, interrupting the conversation.

"Ya ain't in charge o' me," Curvetail murmured, "Now, shut yer trap, nobeast wants ta hear ya talk. Gaah, I wish I knew wot exactly a bosun does, then I could actually do sumthin' instead of talk ta yew morons. I'm gonna see what Conrad's doin', it's gotta be more interestin' than this."

As Curvetail left, Wemys continued the conversation. "So, does anybeast here actually trust Abren?"

"'Ey, don't get too close to the edge there!" shouted Limptail at two hedgehogs that had done just that. They backed away slowly.

"Eh, jus' leave 'em," muttered Crowley, "If they fall overboard, it's their own fault. An' no, I don't trust Abren. Jeld's a fool fer talkin' wit' him."

"Yeah, I always found it funny how he jus' showed up an' said he wanted to be our navigator," said Lersot, "An' Garland sed that Abren jus' snuck by 'em all stealthy-like. That's why he hit Abren wit' his spear, he thought we was gonna get attacked."

"I wonder why he wears all those big clothes," Rebule murmured.

"Ta hide all his weapons, o' course!" Lersot was quick to reply, "I betcha he has hundreds o' knives an' daggers stashed away somewheres! Just more of a reason not ta trust him."

"Bah, I don't see why we shouldn't trust him," Limptail spat, "He seems nice 'nough. An' he's helpin' us out a whole lot. Wot's the big problem?"

"The problem is that he seems fishy," Wemys replied, "He claimed that he was a corsair before, but he sure doesn't talk like one. He talks kinda fancy, even."

"There ain't no rule that pirates has ta talk like pirates," Limptail pointed out, "Maybe he was a smart pirate, which prob'ly is the case."

Further conversation ceased as the door to the captain's quarters was suddenly flung open and Conrad stepped out, now wearing a floppy pirate hat that didn't suit him very well. "Okay, this is far 'nough," he proclaimed, "Abren, go steer us towards shore, we're gonna drop off our passengers now."

---

The ship was stopped as close to shore as possible, and the old slaves were finally released, free at last. All of them except one, that is. Deep in a corner of the ship, hidden where no one would find him, was a young mouse that was bound, gagged, and unable to move.

* * *

**Author's Note: Okay, any guesses as to who Abren REALLY is? I reveal it next chapter, so this is going to be your only chance to figure it out. Think about it: he's a weasel who knows about Ballantyne and Deathblaze. That kind of narrows it down...**

**Oh, and Awsomewriter, I actually made them seem nice on purpose, so I could juxtapose later on in the story. I'll point out what I mean when I get to it.**


	31. The Mutiny

**Author's Note: Stuff happens in this chapter, whooooo! Soon, very soon, Part III will make the transition from light-hearted adventure story with a lot of humor dabbled in to a depressing tale of death and hypocrisy with a lot of humor dabbled in. Oh, and Abren's true identity is revealed at the end of the chapter.**

* * *

XXXI: The Mutiny

The ship sailed onward and onward for a few days, going in whatever direction Abren steered it. The galley slaves slaved, the slave drivers drove, and the odd jobbers did odd jobs.

It was early morning; almost everybeast onboard was asleep. The sun had only just risen. The ship was anchored only a short distance away from shore; Conrad had decided it might be a good idea to go ashore and search for food. The searats had left a good store of food, but it was being depleted fairly quickly. Conrad would rather be safe than sorry.

Precariously perched on the top of the mast, Kleid scoured the land from above to see if she could find any good spots to land. It was kind of a useless practice; the entire place was just one long beach. There was a forest way off in the distance, but it would be a hike to get there.

Then, Kleid saw something interesting. Far away, looming out of the beach like some sort of pillar of doom, was a mountain. "Huh, a mountain, on a beach? Who'd have thought that was possible?"

"Hey, Kleid!!"

Kleid looked down. On the deck was Abren, shouting up at her. He motioned for her to come down. Kleid wondered what he wanted. Maybe he could tell her about the beach-mountain; although, for a pirate, he didn't seem to know a whole lot about pirating or geography.

The weasel carefully made her way down, cautious not to trip. After a few minutes, she landed on the deck. "Wot is it, Abren?" she asked.

Abren had rolled up his sleeves, so his paws were actually visible. "Look at that," he said, pointing at something behind Kleid. She turned around, wondering why she couldn't have stayed up at the top. It'd be another long climb just to get back up there now, and she'd probably be able to see whatever it was better anyways.

Suddenly, something hit her in the back of the head and she fell over, unconscious. Abren dropped the wooden plank he had used to bludgeon the weasel and moved onto his next destination; the supply cabinet.

Abren walked in, slowly opening the door as to not make a sound. Jeld was asleep, holding one of his two bags. Good, it wasn't the bag Abren needed. Jeld's weapons bag lay unattended against the wall. Slowly, Abren walked across the room, testing each board carefully in case it creaked. Without even any notion that Jeld might have been disturbed, Abren grabbed the bag of weapons and carefully left.

The weasel walked down to the galley, not really making such measures to make sure he was undetected. Davian, Garland, and Yugu were all asleep, as well as all of the slaves, with the exception of one: Buvul.

The paranoid stoat stared at Abren silently, his eyes darting back and forth wildly. Abren walked past him, hoping he wouldn't say anything. He just needed to get to the other side of the room now, where Garland and Yugu were sleeping.

He carefully put down the giant bag filled with weapons. There was a slight noise when it touched the ground, nothing loud enough to disturb a creature from their sleep. But Buvul heard it.

"They're gonna eat meeeeeeee!! HELP!!!"

Abren quickly dove to the other side of the room, drawing one of his many daggers from a hidden compartment in his jacket. Every creature in the galley was awakening now, confused and agitated. Yugu stood up with a start, drawing her sword instinctively. Abren forced her against the wall of the ship before she really had a chance to understand what was going on and held his knife up to her throat.

"Wot's happenin'? Wot're ya doin', Abren?" Garland muttered groggily, "Ugh… I'm gonna whip that Buvul good fer wakin' me up like that!"

"Not so loud, or I'll kill her!" Abren hissed. Garland looked at them, rubbing his eyes.

"Abren…? Wot's goin' on?" Garland whispered as he suddenly realized the predicament that was unfolding.

"I always knew we couldn't trust you," Yugu spat.

Davian suddenly began running at Abren, drawing his sword. The weasel held the knife up closer to Yugu's throat and yelled, "If you don't freeze right now, I'll kill her!"

This didn't seem to affect Davian in the slightest. The lizard kept running. "Stop, Davian!! STOP, ya stupid scalebrain!!" Garland shouted frantically. Davian skidded to a halt reluctantly.

"Good," Abren said, smiling, "Now, you're going to drop your weapons and kick them to me, you got that?"

Garland did so without hesitation, his lance rolling over and stopping at Abren's footpaws. Davian did not move. "Davian, do as he says!" Garland yelled. Davian listlessly tossed his blade over to Abren.

"Wot's goin' on?" asked Skrobb the rat, "Is there gonna be a mutiny?"

"Yes, yes there is," Abren announced, "I'm going to let you all free, and then we'll chain up those monsters that captured you from your homes and forced you to be slaves!"

There was a slight cheer from the crowd, but Abren quickly silenced it, looking around nervously. "Now, we got to be quiet. We still need the crew to row the ship, so we don't want to kill any of them. Not yet, at least," he said, giving a wink to Garland.

"I can't believe you'd do this, Abren," Garland muttered.

"Yeah, well, start believing. Now, I need you to get the keys and let the prisoners go. Do exactly as I say, nothing funny, or I'll kill your friend here."

Garland brushed past Davian and quickly grabbed the jingling set of keys. Quickly and efficiently, he let every single slave go. They stood up and began to chatter amongst themselves.

"Quiet, be quiet!" Abren hissed, "We don't want to wake up Conrad or the rest. Then it may turn into a fight, and we don't want that. Now, let's chain up these beasts that made you row so hard, okay?" Davian, Garland, and Yugu were suddenly grabbed by the crowd and forced into benches. Abren walked around, shackling all three of them one-by-one and chuckling slightly.

"At least we ain't dead," Yugu said to Garland, shrugging. The ferret didn't seem pleased, however. He glared at Abren angrily as the weasel latched on a set of shackles tightly.

"Yeah, at least you aren't dead," Abren repeated, a dark smile on his face, "Now, you two," he pointed at Skrobb and some other rat, "You two stay here and make sure these prisoners don't try anything funny. The rest of you, there's a bag right there in the middle of the room. It's got every type of weapon you could imagine, almost. Take whichever one you like; there should be enough for all of you. Then follow me up the stairs, but try to be quiet about it, okay?"

The released slaves went for the bag in force, ripping it to pieces. Skrobb picked up a shiny new cutlass, Reyla and her mate Karder grabbed identical sabers, Telson the ferret armed himself with a hatchet, and Buvul, timidly watching from the back, snatched a pair of bolas cautiously, as if they would rear up and bite him.

Abren held a finger to his mouth, telling the prisoners to be silent. They slowly crept back up the stairs, ready to overthrow Captain Conrad and his crew.

---

Conrad was sitting in his quarters, pondering everything. He had to constantly think of the crew's needs, even more than he thought about his needs. Now, they were heading up north. Were there any cities up north? He had asked around, but nobeast had ever been able to give him an answer to that. He had to constantly plan things out because everything was so uncertain.

He wanted to propel his little group back into the glory days that they had experienced a few seasons ago, before his sister Connerie or Wemys' brother Percival had left. The group had all been relieved when they made their departure, but Conrad knew that they had both been great assets to the group. Percival could fight any creature and Connerie could heal any wounds. In fact, the two of them were kind of a duo; Percival got injured very frequently, and Connerie could always heal him. Conrad's sister may have been a fraud of a seer, but she was a brilliant healer.

The group had changed a lot since then. Half of them had either left or died, leaving only the rag-tag crew he had now, with only three or four decent fighters. Most of the group lacked any motivation whatsoever. They simply lazed about all day, doing nothing with purpose. It had been insane to try and persuade them to go with him on this journey north. Many had complained. But Conrad had to look out for the good of the group, which wasn't always the same thing as what the group wanted.

"This is all your fault, Connerie," he muttered aloud. If she hadn't left, things would be different. She would've been able to heal Wemys' sister, which would have meant that Percival would have stayed, which would have meant that the group would have been able to stick together.

At least things looked like they were turning back around in his favor now.

There was a knock on his door. "Hey, Conrad, come out here. I need to show you something." It was Abren. Conrad had taken Abren as some sort of lucky break. Without him, they would probably be lost. The fox wondered if Abren was a good fighter as he opened to door to his quarters.

Abren was there, holding a small sword right up to Conrad's nose. Conrad looked behind the weasel and saw the twenty-three slaves, now all freed. "Um… What is going on?" asked the fox.

"We're taking over the ship, that's what," Abren replied, "Hand over your weapons- and I mean _all _of them- now."

Conrad sighed. This was just his luck. But, he wasn't about to try anything stupid. He threw down his two swords, his scimitar, his hatchet, and his collection of knives one-by-one at Abren's feet.

"Why're ya doin' this, Abren?" Conrad asked, his voice remaining calm, if somber.

"Revenge," muttered Abren, "That's why. Revenge. No, not to you. Those who wronged me in the past. That's why I'm not killing you or your crew. I'm going to need them later on. Chain him up."

Reyla and her mate stepped forward and grabbed Conrad. They slowly guided him down the stairs to the galley, with the escaped slaves laughing and snickering as he passed by them.

"Oh, Conrad," Abren suddenly said. The fox stopped, and turned his head back. "We didn't really go north, like you wanted. We went south the whole time. So, we're almost at our destination: Salamandastron."

"You're kidding," Conrad muttered, "You're goin' to all be slaughtered. Regner's horde was routed by them, an' so will you."

Abren smiled. "Of course not. Regner's horde took out most of the Long Patrol anyways. There's only a very small amount of them left. All it takes is one finished blow, and Salamandastron will be ours. Not to mention, I brought along a hostage to barter with. Meet Gerry."

Abren pointed at a young mouse that was been restrained by two of his new soldiers. The mouse was gagged and tied, and was kicking and thrashing wildly. Conrad could tell that Gerry had been one of the slaves that they had freed. The fox was about to say something, but Abren motioned at Reyla and Karder with his paw and they forced the fox down to the galley.

---

Conrad sat in the very last bench, chained next to Weltsnout, who was muttering angrily about how stupid his captors were. All sixteen members of his crew were in there, chained together in pairs, just like how the slaves had been before. Garland and Yugu, Jeld and Tadds, Rebule and Lersot, Wemys and Limptail. They were all talking and whispering amongst themselves.

"Wot d'ya think's gonna happen ta us?" Jeld muttered, "Ta think, I was jus' talkin' wit' him the other day, almost played cards wit' him, too. I betcha if I had, he'd have cheated. Stupid weasel."

"Ah, shut up," Murkeye shot, "It'd jus' be a dose of yer own medicine if he did cheat. When am I e'er gonna get that medal o' mine back? Y'know, the one ya stole?"

"I told ya, I don't cheat!" Jeld insisted.

"Stupid weasellies, ya can never trust 'em," Weltsnout announced, mostly to himself, "I oughtta stomp all o' those dumb slaveys. That'd teach 'em!" He balled his chained paws into fists.

"'Ey, don't start sayin' bad things 'bout weasels," Curvetail shouted from the back of the room, "Ya might hurt my feelings." He made a fake, forced sniveling noise. Crowley, who he was chained to, gave him an annoyed push.

"I can say wotever I wanna say about weasellies!" Weltsnout snapped, "Now, shut up! I'm second-in-command, okey dokey? That means ya gotta lissen ta me!" He turned around and spat in Curvetail's direction.

"Ya ain't second-in-command o' nuttin', now," Crowley muttered, "In case ya haven't noticed, we've kinda been overthrown. Now we're jus' galley slaves, like they were before." He motioned at Skrobb and the other rat with a paw.

"Ah, can ya all jus' shut up?" Skrobb remarked, "I'm tired of hearin' ya yappin' yer mouths off all the time. Ya didn't hear us talkin' a whole lot when ya forced us ta be yer slaves!"

"Wait, if Weltsnout's not second-in-command anymore, does that mean I'm not the head odd jobber?" asked Swiss. Skrobb beat him over the head with the hilt of his cutlass, and he shut up quickly.

"Be quiet, ya fools!" Skrobb yelled, "Now, here comes Abren."

The weasel descended the stairs majestically. He had shed both his oversized hat had his huge eyepatch, revealing that both of his eyes were in complete working order, and traded his goofy large boots for much smaller ones. In one paw he held the whip for the slaves.

"Why'd ya wear all those large clothes in the first place?" asked Rebule, who had always had some sort of fascination with the overly large hat and eyepatch, "If ya were just goin' ta take 'em off anyways?"

Swiftly, Abren cracked his whip. A bloody red line appeared on Rebule's face, across the eyes. He clutched his head in agony, whimpering and crying. His partner, Lersot, looked at the injured ferret nervously.

"I had to keep you off guard, to answer your question," replied Abren, the end of the whip floating to the floor, "You were more likely to trust a creature who looked funny than one who looked serious and intimidating, as I naturally am. So, I had to put up a charade to fool you."

"Well, we weren't actually fooled," Curvetail exclaimed, "Most of us saw right through you. _Most _of us." He glared at Conrad. The fox didn't notice, however.

"Don't you fools learn?" Abren muttered to himself. He cracked his whip again, this time at Curvetail. However, the weasel had been anticipating this, and held up his chains. The whip, instead of striking Curvetail's face, wrapped around the chains. Dejected, Abren pulled the whip away. "Anyways, it certainly worked on the right creatures, as I was able to pull off the rebellion without a hitch."

Curvetail put down his chains, satisfied that he had beaten his captor. Suddenly, though, Abren lashed out his whip again. Curvetail wasn't prepared this time, and the whip hit his face mercilessly.

"Like you expected me to let you off that easily," Abren sighed, shaking his head, "Now, as I told your former captain here, we're heading off to Salamandastron."

"Wait," Kleid interjected, rubbing her head, "That mountain I saw… It was Salamandastron?" She suddenly held up her paws, realizing that Abren would probably whip her.

Abren did not, however. "Yes, that was Salamandastron. Oh, and I'm sorry I had to hit you so hard. It was a necessary measure, you see." He smiled gently at her.

"Uh… Okay…" Kleid replied, glad that she hadn't been whipped but not really liking Abren's advances.

"Anyways, the reason you are still alive is because I will need you to lead my charges against the tattered remains of the Long Patrol," Abren announced, "Well, most of you. There are some that I'm going to let go, right now, because I… need you. The rest of you, I really couldn't care less." He shot a quick glare at Curvetail.

"Well, who're ya gonna let go?" asked Limptail eagerly. The whip cracked on his face, leaving a bloody smear.

"Not you, that's for sure," Abren snapped, "Now, listen up, because for a few of you, this is your lucky day. We still need a cook, so I'm letting Murkeye go. Kleid as well. And Wemys. Let's see… who else…?"

The weasel looked around. Wemys was a little confused as to why he was being let out, but didn't say anything. Jeld piped up, "'Ey, Abren matey. How 'bout ya let me go? We're mateys, right?"

"Yeah… No." The whip cracked on Jeld's face. Abren walked past him without giving a second thought. The weasel walked past each bench, examining the members carefully. He then walked past the bench with Swiss and Davian on it.

Swiss wasn't saying anything, but he was raising his paw ecstatically and had a goofy grin on his face. Abren couldn't help himself. The whip cracked again, and Swiss suddenly screamed in pain. "Davian, I think I used to know some of your friends. Kalzmar and Corzon, correct?"

"You know Kalzmar and Corzon?" Davian suddenly exclaimed, "They were general, like me. General for King Kirrent. Where they are?"

"Dead," Abren replied, "Killed by the Long Patrol. You can go, too." He continued walking past the benches, as Skrobb and his partner let out the creatures Abren had said to. Finally, Abren came to the first bench, with Garland and Yugu on it.

"Ehh… You can go, also," Abren announced, examining Yugu carefully, "You don't look too bad. Easy on the eyes."

"'Ey!" shouted Garland, "Wot d'ya mean by that?" The whip cracked, and Garland shirked back, bleeding.

"You are all pretty slow learners," Abren sighed, coiling up his bloody whip. He turned and began to walk up the stairs.

"Abren, why did ya let me go?" asked Wemys suddenly. The weasel turned around. Wemys was a little afraid that he may get whipped.

"Back when I was still in control of my horde, your brother was the captain of my guard," replied Abren briefly, "The best fighter I've ever met, he was. Except myself, of course."

"You led a horde? You knew my brother?" Wemys exclaimed, "Who exactly are you?"

Abren walked back down the stairs. He turned to Jeld and asked, "Do you still have those cards? I need them for a second."

"Will ya let me go if I give 'em ta ya?" Jeld responded indignantly. The whip cracked again, creating a bloody red "X" on Jeld's face. The stoat quickly grabbed the deck of cards from his pocket and threw them to Abren.

The weasel sifted through the cards quickly until he found the card he wanted. He held the card up to his face for a few brief moments, and then threw both it and the deck onto the floor. The cards flew everywhere as Abren turned and walked away.

At the top of the heap of cards Abren had thrown down was the card he had held up to his face. On it was a picture of a weasel that looked exactly like Abren. Underneath the picture, in a glossy, fancy font, were the words "Regner the Magnificent".

* * *

**Second Note of Authorness: Yeah, Regner's STILL not dead. This is kind of a joke in itself that the stupid dude keeps dying and coming back to life. Oh, and if you want an explanation as to how Regner survived, you'll have to wait until next chapter, where the second of the two flashbacks in this story awaits. It's really a simple explanation that's basically based around Ballantyne's screwy priorities, but whatever.**

**One other thing, note how Conrad manages his little gang like one would manage a business. Conrad kinda turned out funny, because I basically chose his name at random, but I later found not one but TWO reasons why it fit. One, there's the obvious "con" in his name (although that really applies more to his sister than him, but whatever...). Second, there's this story called "Heart of Darkness". I haven't personally read it, but from what I gather, it's about slavery and stuff. Oh, and in case you don't know, it's written by a guy simply named Conrad. I think. As I said, I'm not an expert on the subject, like I am with Lord of the Flies, Catcher in the Rye, mostly anything Shakespearean... So, I really don't know how well the name fits.**


	32. The Inferno

**Author's Note: Regner is the warlord that Ballantyne basically had on a leash, who supposedly got killed just before the attack on Salamandastron. Oh, and the flashback is still in the rpesent tense. . **

XXXII: The Inferno

_Regner opens his eyes. It's dark, smelly, and something heavy is on top of him. He can't see a thing; it's all black. He has trouble remembering what happened at first, but as he struggles to get out from underneath whatever it is that's crushing him, he begins to remember. He was in the hall, and the badger was there, and so was Ballantyne. Then, the badger cut off the head of this one fox, and—_

_Oh, yes. That's right. Regner slew the badger lord. Regner the Mediocre, never to amount to anything due to his own skill, just a puppet to Ballantyne's plans and ideals, slew Lord Oxpaw. It's a good feeling. All the nay-sayers, all the disbelievers, all of them are disproven now._

_He struggles out from under the badger. It's quiet, which could be a good thing or a bad thing. At least there aren't a whole bunch of hares running at him with spears. Next to him is the headless fox, lifeless eyes staring at him creepily. Regner never trusted foxes. Good riddance._

_Neither Ballantyne nor the one stoat that Oxpaw had been holding are there. Regner guesses that too is a good thing; if Ballantyne could get the message back to Deathblaze, then the hares had no chance. But the silence is unnerving. If they had won, there would be hearty cheers and celebration._

_Ballantyne must have thought he was dead, that's the only way the ferret would leave him there. And Regner must admit, it probably did look like he was dead. A huge badger tackled him with an insane bloodlust. How had it not killed him? Regner looks down at his armor. That's why. The armor saved him._

_It's not a very good explanation, but Regner goes with it. He tries to get up and a giant streak of pain whips through his body. The weasel decides to check to see what's broken; he knows something is, from that pain._

_The weasel determines that he's got a broken arm and several broken ribs. His legs seem okay, which is a good thing. Very carefully, he rises up again. The pain shoots through his body, but it's not as intense as before. He finds he can walk. That's good. Walking is good._

_Regner reaches for his huge axe, still embedded in the badger's shoulder, but realizes that there's no way he can lift it with only one arm. He doesn't even try; there's no use. He'd have liked to have kept it, to remind him of his amazing feat, but he settles on simply reclaiming his much lighter weapon; the throwing knife that ended the badger's life. Easily, he yanks it out from between Oxpaw's eyes, and stashes it back in its sheath. Then he walks down to the main hall._

_He reaches the entrance and freezes. No wonder there isn't any noise. The main hall is a veritable sea of death and doom. Bodies are everywhere, layers and layers of bodies. It's like a small mountain of the dead._

_Regner spots a few of his old soldiers, like Hairmold and Kalzmar. But there's no sign of Ballantyne or Deathblaze, which is a good thing. The weasel wished Golding's body was there, though; he'd have enjoyed kicking it._

_He walks through the bodies, unable to avoid stepping on them. He doesn't see any injured soldiers anywhere; everybeast here is dead. "Ballantyne!" he yells, and his voice echoes throughout the room, unanswered._

_Trudging through the bodies, Regner reaches the front door and peers out it. It's still dark; either he was out for an entire day, or he wasn't out very long at all. He decides on the latter after seeing a group of forty creatures outside._

_Half of them are hares; the other half are his soldiers. Regner sees Ballantyne, completely tied up. "An execution," Regner says to himself, "They're going to execute them all."_

_Regner can't bear to watch. The hare in charge is angry now, yelling things. Regner begins to run as fast as he can, his ribs burning in pain. Nobeast sees him; he's too well hidden by the night. He never looks back, lest he watch as Ballantyne and the rest are slaughtered. But there's only twenty hares left… He can easily get his vengeance on them for what they're doing to his soldiers. Easily. And then claim Salamandastron for real in the end. Which may be the real reason he wants to return. In fact, it probably is. But the vengeance thing seems like he'd be able to garner more sympathy with it_

_So, Regner promises himself that he will return. And he will kill every last hare in that mountain. Why wouldn't he?_

---

The ship sailed a little farther, until Salamandastron was much more clearly in sight. Then, Regner dropped the anchor and led twenty-one of his released slaves, his hostage, and the five of Conrad's crew that he had allowed to go free to the beach. He left two of his newfound soldiers to guard the other eleven prisoners. When he was actually going to fight, he would bring those prisoners ashore so they can lead the charge. But, until then, he was going to keep them where he knew they wouldn't escape. The thing he needed the least right now was a rebellion, something Regner had never had much luck with. First Aulder, then Golding had both betrayed him. He wasn't going to let Conrad ruin his plans for revenge.

He had already promoted some of his soldiers to captains; Telson the ferret and Skrobb the rat. They would never be as effective as Ballantyne and Deathblaze, but they were both decent enough fighters and had good heads on their shoulders. He had considered promoting Wemys to captain, hoping that maybe he shared Deathblaze's immense strength and skill, but he had held off on that for the time being. He still wasn't sure if he could trust the stoat not to try and save his friends onboard.

Wemys was a little depressed. Regner had told him that his brother was dead. The stoat had never particularly liked Percival, especially after how he had just up and left after their sister died, but they were still brothers. Wemys was now the last member of his family still alive, he realized somberly.

The members of Conrad's crew that had been let out had grouped together amongst the new soldiers, with Kleid and Yugu a little worried over the dubious reasons why Regner had allowed them to leave. Davian stood in the center of the group, his eyes darting back and forth. He, too, was dealing with the realization that all his friends were dead.

The rest of the army, the now-freed slaves, were all plenty happy. They were free, they were armed, and they were going to take over Salamandastron. What was wrong with that? Sure, a few of them (all sporting large cuts down their faces) all gave Davian and Yugu malicious glances, but they were all rather willing to put the past behind them in exchange for the glorious future Regner was promising.

Only Buvul was uncertain, holding his bolas as if he were going to club somebeast with them. He walked in the back, his bloodshot eyes darting back and forth. Not a single creature minded him, however, and he continued along his paranoid little way.

Regner trudged onto the sand, dragging the bound and gagged Gerry along with him like a rag doll in one paw and brandishing his new saber in the other. The saber had been taken from Jeld, who had swindled it off of a dying Golding (Regner didn't doubt for a second that the gambling stoat had forced Golding to play cards with him before simply grabbing his saber), who had taken it from his headless father Aulder. And now, it had come into the possession of its rightful owner, Lord Regner the Magnificent.

The group did not get far before they were stopped by a solitary hare, who stood proudly on the top of a sand dune. Regner had seen the hare before; the scarred face and hook paw gave it away.

"You're supposed to be dead," spat Colonel Caldwell, completely alone at the top of the hill of sand, "Unless my eyes are deceiving me. You _are _Regner, right?" The hare held a small sword in his good paw, although it hung their lazily, not ready to fight.

"Not just Regner," replied the weasel, stopping just at the base of the dune, "Lord Regner the Magnificent. Or, as I've started to call myself, Lord Regner the Invincible. I can only imagine your surprise when you searched and searched around your slain oaf of a leader and never found my body. I left you my axe, though. Did you see it, sticking out of that stupid stripedog's shoulder?"

Caldwell remained calm. He had made two huge mistakes in his lifetime, both which had had disastrous results, but he was not intent on making a third one. As soon as Lieutenant Tabbins had sighted the pirate ship looming in the distance (which was about the same time Kleid had seen Salamandastron, funnily enough), Caldwell had taken huge precautionary measures. And when Regner had jumped out of the ship, no doubt back to try and finish what he started, Caldwell had doubled those precautions. Yes, it _looked _as if Caldwell was all alone on that dune, but he was actually backed by Tabbins and ten other hares. The other half of what was now left of the Long Patrol was being led by Sergeant Clements, the head archer, and now poised to set fire to the ship with flaming arrows.

"Yes," Caldwell replied, "Lieutenant Tabbins is using that axe now. He plans to chop your head off with it and mount it on his wall. Of course, that's if I don't get to you first. Where's that stuffy ferret of yours? On your ship, along with the rest of your army? Don't try to fool us, Regner. We know you didn't come here with only slightly larger numbers than us. Vermin like you don't try to do things unless you're either completely insane or the odds are stacked incredibly in your favor. And you don't look too crazy to me."

"What do you mean by asking me where Ballantyne is?" Regner demanded, "You idiot hares executed him yourself! That's why I'm back here, for my revenge! The mountain is just a little extra bonus for my efforts."

"I'm sorry, but the Long Patrol doesn't execute prisoners," Caldwell responded without the tiniest hint of anger or annoyance, "We let all of them go. Even that one crazy stoat. We know you have both of them on that ship of yours, Regner. I don't suggest you try to cover them up."

"Wot's he talkin' 'bout?" whispered Skrobb, "Crazy stoats an' stuffy ferrets? It don't make no sense."

"Be quiet," Regner hissed back. Skrobb slunk away, suddenly remembering another reason why he had stayed away from hordes his whole life: the moody warlords. "Now, stop talking all this nonsense! I know there's only twenty of you left, and I know you aren't ever going to surrender just to numbers alone!"

"Then he's smarter than most vermin," snickered Tabbins from behind the dune. Caldwell discreetly kicked some sand on him.

"So, let's get straight down to business," Regner continued. He pushed Gerry forward. "This is Gerry, you see. He's a poor little mousey, lost and frightened and scared. Aren't you, Gerry?" The mouse sat there silently. Regner frowned and turned back to Caldwell, saying, "Y'see? Now, you all lay down your weapons- and I mean all of you, and don't think I don't know your real number- or else poor little Gerry here will never see his family ever again."

"Wot're we gonna do?" whispered one of the hares.

"We can't lay down our weapons, that's for sure!" Tabbins replied.

"Be quiet," Caldwell muttered, "Regner won't kill his hostage, especially after Clements burns down his ship and he finds that he's got equal numbers to us. He'll keep him alive so that he'll have an advantage over us. Then we can mount a rescue operation, although… we aren't going to try anything too risky."

"Ah, wot?" Tabbins groaned, "We're hares! Courageous and perilous creatures! Wot are ya talkin' about, 'nothing too risky'?!"

"Be quiet!" Caldwell kicked some more sand back at Tabbins. Then, he focused his attention on Regner, who had seemed to notice that there were creatures behind Caldwell. "Look, you have twenty-five or so, and there's exactly twenty-four of us. You kill that hostage, and we will not hesitate to rout your entire group, including yourself. Are you prepared to fight the Long Patrol completely equally?"

There was a murmur of discontent among Regner's miniature horde as they realized that they might not be able to take care of the remnants of the Long Patrol so easily. Regner was quick to reassure them, speaking now to both Caldwell and his group, "Be quiet, all of you! You're all forgetting that there's thirteen more of us on that ship, most of which we can get to lead our offensives!"

"Thirteen?!" squealed Buvul from the back of the group, "That's a bad number!!! It's bad, I tell ya!!! Very bad!!!" The stoat was quickly silenced by two strong-looking rats, who shoved a balled-up rag in his mouth.

"This is all you could muster up against us, Regner?" Caldwell scoffed, "I was expecting better. I mean, we pretty much left you twenty of your soldiers, as well as your head tactician and that one crazy stoat, but you instead come back with this lot? Ha! This'll be easier than I thought!"

Regner hoisted up Gerry and held his saber to the mouse's throat. "Shut your mouth right now or I'll spill his blood all over the place!"

Caldwell smiled. Regner was frantic; his crew was frightened and unsure. Now for the finishing blow. The hare casually waved his paw. To any of Regner's horde, it seemed like a simple, random gesture. But to Sergeant Clements, newly promoted after the fiasco at Salamandastron the last time Regner had shown up, it was a signal. He and his small squad, safely hidden by a collection of rocks on the beach all prepared to burn Regner's ship to ashes.

---

Conrad and the rest of his crew sat in the galley, all unaware that they were about to be sitting in a burning inferno. Most moped, others moaned, but one had formed a plan. In a turn of events most unlikely, that one creature was Jeld.

Regner had only spared two creatures to watch the prisoners, both rats. One stood abovedecks, watching carefully in case Regner gave him a signal, in which case he would gather the prisoners and bring them out to his lord. The other one watched the prisoners personally, eyeing each one over carefully. Luckily, Regner had taken the whip with him, or many more of Conrad's crew would have long gashes running down their faces.

"'Ey, Oilear!" shouted the guard as he meandered around the benches, tromping on the still-scattered deck of cards carelessly, "Any sign from Regner yet?!"

"NO!" shouted a voice from abovedecks, "There ain't been no signal yet, Fleefer! If there was, I wudda tolja! Now shut yer trap an' stop askin' me! I'll tell ya as soon as I see sumthin'!"

"Ya don't hafta be so mean 'bout it!" Fleefer yelled back. He received no response. Muttering angrily to himself, the rat paced back and forth even quicker than before, skidding on one of the cards on the floor, depicting a handsome pine marten with hypnotic blue eyes.

And that's when Jeld got his idea. Suddenly turning around, he yelled, "So, Swiss, are ya a pine marten or not?"

"Ah, don't start this again, Jeld," Conrad growled, his head slumped over on his chains, "I don't wanna hear any more about stupid Swiss."

Jeld ignored his annoyed leader (and several of his annoyed colleagues, including Curvetail and Crowley), and continued, using lines that Regner himself had said to him. "Ya know, Ublaz was a pine marten."

"Wot?" exclaimed Swiss.

"'Ey, prisoners ain't allowed ta talk with each other!" snapped Fleefer, tapping Jeld with the butt of his spear.

The gambling stoat was not fazed. "Well, could ya at least settle this one argument we've been havin'? Ya see that card down there, the one that says 'Ublaz Mad Eyes'? Could ya take a look at that an' tell us if it looks like my friend Swiss over there?"

Fleefer gave a skeptical look at Jeld, then bent down and picked up the card in question, examining it closely. "Nah, I really don't… see… a… blue eyes…" The rat swayed back and froth slightly, transfixed to the spot.

"How'd ya do that?" muttered Weltsnout, "Ratty all weird now."

"Crowley, now ya gotta magic yerself outta those shackles, quick," Jeld snapped at the weasel behind him, ignoring Weltsnout. Many of the crew looked on in wonder. Conrad, however, didn't even look up.

Crowley wasted no time. Most of his magic act was just smoke and mirrors, and Jeld knew that, but the one trick Crowley could do genuinely was his escape trick. The weasel began to dislocate his fingers, working as quickly as he could. Fleefer continued to stand there, unable to take his eyes off of Ublaz. Crowley yanked one of his paws through the shackle, letting out a hiss in pain. He then set to work on the other, quickly getting it out of the shackle as well.

"Kill the guard!" Curvetail snapped. Fleefer had dropped his spear in his trance. Crowley grabbed at it, fumbling it around since half of his fingers weren't in the place they were supposed to be. Awkwardly seizing up the spear, he thrust it forward. The Ublaz Mad Eyes card fluttered to the ground as Fleefer dropped over dead, never knowing what hit him. Crowley quickly went back to work at fixing his fingers.

"Get the keys!" Jeld exclaimed.

"Kill the other guard!" Curvetail hissed.

"Wait, am I a pine marten or not?" Swiss asked.

"Be quiet! I hafta fix my fingers afore I do anythin'!" Crowley snapped back, quickly working his paw back the way it should be. Most of his fingers were in their correct places now.

"FI—!" shouted Oilear from abovedecks, cutting off abruptly. The prisoners looked at each other nervously, wondering what the guard had been trying to scream and why he hadn't finished screaming it. Their answer came quickly as the carcass of Oilear rolled down the stairs, a flaming arrow lodged in his chest.

"They're settin' the ship on fire!" Limptail exclaimed, pointing out the obvious, "We gotta get outta here!"

Crowley forgot about the last few of his fingers and bolted for the nearest exit. "GET THE KEYS!" Conrad suddenly yelled, his head no longer down and his interest no longer divided, "GET THE KEYS!"

Crowley skidded to a halt, snatched the keys awkwardly, and heaved them back. "Hurry up an' get out!" he shouted, then jumped over Oilear's flaming body and dashed up the stairs.

The keys landed very close to Rebule. The ferret swiftly grabbed them, fumbled around a bit, and let himself and Lersot out. Rebule handed the keys to Garland, and then they too made a swift departure.

Flames had begun to spring from Oilear's body, and the rest of the prisoners suspected that there were more flames consuming the ship. Garland opened up his shackles and tossed the set of keys down to Jeld and Tadds.

"Hurry up!!" shouted Curvetail, uncomfortably seated in the back, "I'm gonna get roasted alive if ya don't go quicker!" As if to emphasis his point, a huge burning mast smashed through the ceiling, crashing directly in between the two rows of benches. Large splinters of wood were sent flying everywhere.

"I got a splinter in my eye!!!" screamed Weltsnout, "It hurties very bad!!!"

The shackles on Jeld and Tadds flew off with a click, and Jeld threw the keys to Conrad before running out. But when he reached the flaming abovedecks, which was quickly turning into an inferno, he did not immediately jump overboard, as all the escapees before him had done. He grabbed Tadds and tossed the rat down into the sea, but he himself went directly for his quarters, where all of his things, as well as the remainder of his weapons, were stashed.

The fire had not yet reached his room yet, and he found both large bags completely unharmed. Swiftly departing, he was about to jump overboard when Weltsnout, a large wooden splinter lodged in his eye, pushed past him and dove.

"The keys!!!" screamed a voice that sounded a lot like Curvetail's, "Give us the _keys_, Conrad!!!"

Jeld hurled both of his bags over the edge of the ship (one of them struck the unfortunate Tadds right on the head) and dashed back down belowdecks to figure out what was amiss.

The entire galley was burning now; it was hard to breathe. Curvetail, Swiss, and Limptail were all still chained to their benches, yelling at Conrad. The fox was transfixed to a spot somewhere in the middle of the galley, a huge wooden post impaling him through the shoulder.

"Jeld!!!" Curvetail shouted, diverting his attention from the half-conscious Conrad, "Get us the keys!!!"

Jeld stood there dumbly for a few seconds, merely looking at the situation. Then, a huge wooden post smashed through the ceiling, narrowly missing his head, and he was shocked into action. The stoat snatched the keys from Conrad's outstretched paw and tossed it to Swiss, who dropped them. Fumbling around a bit, he picked the keys up and hastily attempted to free himself.

"Hurry up!!!" Curvetail shrieked as a few embers jumped from the walls to the bench right next to him.

Jeld had gone for the wooden post and was attempting to pull it out of Conrad's shoulder. It was a futile effort; the post was lodged between the floor and one of the walls, and wouldn't budge from either side. That didn't deter Jeld, however.

Swiss unlocked his shackles and tossed the keys down to Limptail. The ferret missed them completely and they sailed back, landing by Curvetail's footpaws. Curvetail reached down for them, but his chains restricted him.

Conrad was moaning now, a trickle of blood running down his mouth, "All I… did… All of… it…"

"Don't talk," Jeld hissed. He was attempting to break the wooden post now, hammering it repeatedly. Swiss bumbled by him, tripping and sending them both sprawling. Curvetail bent over and picked up the keys with his teeth.

"I… did everything… for you… losers… Everything…" Conrad moaned, "My… whole life… wasted…!" He seized Jeld by the neck and yanked him up. "Don't let me burn!!!" he shouted with unexpected clarity, bloody spittle splattering all over Jeld's face, "Kill me now!!!"

The stoat recoiled in terror, falling on his back. He scattered back up quickly, then turned and ran, right behind Swiss. Smoke had filled the room now; Limptail, still locked up, was beginning to get very nervous. He watched Curvetail with an apprehensive eye as the weasel released himself.

"Curvetail!!" Conrad spat, "Kill me!! Don't… let me… burn!!!"

"There isn't time!!" Curvetail screamed as he ran by, jumping over the post and shoving the keys into Limptail's paws simultaneously. He had vanished up the stairs in seconds. Limptail furiously began to release himself.

"Losers… All of ya… Make me… sick… I wasted my… whole… life… on ya… an' ya… still… want me to… burn…?" Conrad muttered. The flames had leapt onto his post and were crawling their way up to him.

"I'll k-kill ya, C-Conrad!" Limptail stammered, not believing what he was saying. The shackles popped off. The ferret got up swiftly, looking for some kind of weapon. The only one he could see was Oilear's cutlass, which had fallen to the floor only a few inches from the burning body.

Limptail snatched it up, and then dropped it, screaming in pain. It was incredibly hot. He looked back at Conrad, pathetically pinned to the wall like some sort of ornament. The ferret grabbed the cutlass again, wincing in pain, but did not drop it. Instead, he ran back to his leader.

"I'm sorry, Conrad!" he shrieked, averting his eyes and he lunged forward with the cutlass.

"This… is all… my sister's… fault…"

The cutlass froze, inches from Conrad's heart. Limptail suddenly realized that he couldn't kill him for some reason. Even though the fox had been all too willing to let that gaggle of lizards eat him alive, as Wemys had informed him one night when the whole lot of them were sitting around a campfire, he just couldn't kill Conrad, who, as he had just said, spent his entire life trying to help them.

"What're ya doin'?!" Conrad screeched, "I… don't… want… to… BURN!" The pauses were less caused by the pain and more just added for effect.

Another blazing log smashed through the ceiling, taking about five benches with it. If Curvetail had still been there, he would have been crushed instantly, but now the galley was empty, with the exception of the two dead guards, Conrad, and Limptail. The ferret, without giving any sort of response to his dying leader, turned and ran, Conrad's shrieks of fury and agony following him.

Limptail, the cutlass now seemingly melted to his paw, ran abovedecks and leapt over the side of the boat. He went down, down, down, and then hit the water with a splash and a hiss. He thought that he could still hear Conrad screaming, even when he was underwater, but that was impossible. Completely impossible.

Then, a large arm grabbed him around the neck and jerked him deeper.


	33. The Duel

**Author's Note: We're rapidly approaching the end of the story. Oo After this, only six chapters are left in Part III, and then there's the very short Epilogue.**

* * *

XXXIII: The Duel

Those cheap, dirty hares.

Nevermind the fact that Regner had allowed his tactician Ballantyne to create even cheaper and dirtier schemes against the Long Patrol numerous times in the past, nevermind the fact that Regner had created an even cheaper and dirtier scheme himself by using a hostage, and definitely nevermind the fact that Regner had killed Lord Oxpaw in one of the most cheapest and dirtiest ways imaginable.

Those cheap, dirty hares.

The twenty-six members of his horde that were onshore with him were all yelling frantically, especially the five creatures he had dragged from Conrad's crew (well, four of them, at least; Davian just kind of looked on in awe). Regner had slowly walked from the front of his horde to the center, watching the ship- _his _ship- as it burnt to a crisp. It began to dip backwards, with the bowsprit pointing up (thusly, none of them were able to see Jeld and the rest make their escape). The ship then began to sink slowly.

Regner had forgotten completely about his mouse hostage in the confusion, and had relinquished him as he walked back into his horde. Caldwell's worked better that he had expected as the last thing Regner had in his favor hurried up the sand dune, tripping and falling due to his binds, and ran to the safety provided by the hares.

"We oughtta launch an offensive now, sah," Tabbins suggested as he ripped off the gag on Gerry and was bombarded with an onslaught of "Thank you"s and "I owe you my life"s.

"We can't," Caldwell replied, "Clements' faction is separated from us, and he doesn't now that we're gonna attack. We'd only be fightin' them with half our force. That'd cause unnecessary casualties, Tabbins. There's only about twenty of us left, and I don't want that number to get any smaller, you hear me?"

"Yes, sah," Tabbins replied as he severed Gerry's binds with a small knife. He wanted to protest, claiming that Clements would be able to catch on if they all charged down the hill, and that this would be the best chance to crush Regner's force, considering half of them had dropped their weapons as they watched their ship burn, but there was no talking Caldwell out of doing something, especially if he believed that there was a high risk of casualties. The hare had dropped his gray personality, but he had become overly cautious when anybeast was involved, other than himself. Tabbins knew that Caldwell wanted to try and take on the whole force by himself, and the only reason he wasn't being that he knew there'd be nobeast to stop the rest of them from joining him.

The ship was gone now, just a plume of smoke drifting away towards the horizon. Regner was now swearing and cursing amazingly loudly; presumably, he had just realized his hostage had run off.

"Everything was going RIGHT!!" Regner shouted hopelessly, "How'd this all happen?!"

"I'll tell ya how it happened!" shouted a voice from his horde. The rest of the group shuffled out of the way of the speaker, who was a lean, confident-looking stoat (the exact opposite of Buvul, who was cowering in the background, clutching his bolas to his chest tightly), as he marched forward towards Regner. The weasel didn't know his name; the only ones he knew were the five he had taken from Conrad and his two Captains Skrobb and Telson. "It happened cuz yew aren't as good as yew say y'are! I'll bet ya ain't even _really _Regner, jus' some little braggart who _looks _like him!"

There was a murmur; whether it was of agreement, Regner didn't know. The weasel drew his saber. He had resolved before any of this started that he would deal with any insubordination _his _way; there weren't any Ballantynes around to get rid of all the Goldings the "smart" way. "What's your name, stoat?" he demanded.

"They call me Schaeper," the stoat shot back, "An' I say we stop lissenen' ta ya an' go back home. It was nice an' all fer ya ta rescue us like that, but I don't wanna git killed jus' so yew can have some revenge. An' if ya wanna fight me fer it, then so be it! But know that if ya do that, then yer gonna hafta fight all of us!" He motioned at the rest of the group with a paw. Almost all of them looked eager to put an end to Regner, despite the fact that he had just saved them from a lot of torture and rowing. Only a handful seemed to be backing him, most notably Telson the ferret.

"'Ey," Telson suddenly spoke up, "this reminds me of this time, a long time ago, when I was fightin' under that one warlord, Saxel the Superb, an' then this one feller, name was Bottles… a nice feller, too, though his name was a bit funny… Too bad he got eaten alive by an adder! The poison didn't kick in quick 'nough, I guess, an' he was all gobbled up, still screamin' an' kickin'! An' if I hadn't been smart an' hid behind that one rock, I'd have been gobbled up too! Anywho, Bottles sed—"

"Do yew have a point or are ya jus' runnin' yer mouth?" snapped Skrobb, noticeably backing Schaeper, "Now, I gotta agree with this stoat here. I don't wanna fight no hares, I got 'nough of that a long time ago! I jus' wanna go back home!"

Regner was stewing in his own juices. Schaeper continued, "Now, we're all gonna leave, an' ya ain't gonna stop us, ya got that?!"

There was a pause; Regner said nothing in return. Schaeper shrugged, then began walking off, followed by most of the group. They had gotten a good distance away when Regner finally shouted, "Well, me and Telson here will take Salamandastron all by ourselves! Then you'll have wished that you've stayed here! Ha!"

Nobeast even turned around as they all began to slowly walk away. Regner surveyed what was left of his army. There was Telson, and a diminutive weasel, and the five of Conrad's group (all of which were only still there because they were down at the shoreline, silently mourning their lost friends), and that was it. Regner growled angrily.

"Hey, weasel!!" shouted Caldwell from the top of the dune. Regner suddenly grew very red. That stupid hare had heard all of that, hadn't he?

Caldwell began walking down from the dune, his small sword unsheathed. He had tricked Tabbins and the other hares into going back to Salamandastron, telling them that they needed to go make sure Gerry wasn't hurt or sick or anything. He had pretended to go with them, marching in the back for a short bit, before silently doubling back. From then, he had heard the last bits of Regner's short confrontation that ended in disaster for the weasel. But it was very fortunate for Caldwell.

There were only three creatures left down there (Caldwell saw Wemys and the other four on the shoreline, but they didn't look like they were going to do much anytime soon), and Caldwell was sure that he could take them by himself. If Tabbins and the rest were involved, somebeast other than him would get injured or even killed, he knew it. And even if Caldwell couldn't kill the three of them, he could at least take down Regner, and Caldwell had, as of late, developed a great desire to die. It sickened him, but he wanted to die nonetheless. He had to… atone for what he had done. Yes, atone was the right word.

"Hey, weasel!!" Caldwell repeated, now at the bottom of the dune. Regner looked at him, incredibly embarrassed and incredibly furious. Distantly, the thought that there might be a trap entered his mind, but Regner didn't care. While the weasel didn't particularly want to die, he suddenly found that he didn't quite care if he did, as long as he took that dirty hare with him.

"Don't you dare get into this," Regner snarled at his two loyal soldiers. Neither of them made a reply, but they both took a step back.

Without warning, Regner charged. Caldwell did too. They both met each other, and their swords clashed. Regner ducked under both swords and bit Caldwell in the arm. His sharp teeth dug deeply into Caldwell's flesh. The weasel tore off a chunk of meat, spraying blood everywhere, and spat it out, right in Caldwell's face. The hare responded by kicking Regner hard in the stomach. The weasel hurtled backward, falling in lump at the footpaws of Telson and the other weasel.

He was up in a flash. Regner was not deluded into thinking he was the greatest fighter ever. He had only told Wemys that he was better than Deathblaze to make him seem more intimidating; he didn't even attempt to think that the statement was factual. He had killed Oxpaw, yes, but by cheating. However, with the taste of his most hated foe's blood in his mouth, nothing was about to stop the two-time warlord. Roaring as loudly as he could, he sprang to his feet, actually throwing his saber at Caldwell. The hare attempted to deflect, but the fact that a chunk of his arm was missing made him raise his sword slower than he had anticipated. The saber bounced off the small sword at an odd angle, spinning around and delivering a large gash to the hare's shoulder before it was knocked backwards into the ground.

Then Regner tackled the hare. The short sword went flying likewise, ending up sticking out of the sand perfectly vertically. The two became embroiled in a very bloody brawl, with Regner using his fangs and Caldwell using his hook paw.

"Think we oughtta step in?" muttered the diminutive weasel to Telson, "Regner could get seriously hurt there."

"Nah," the ferret replied, "Regner's got a grudge against that hare. Ya don't interfere with grudges. I once knew a rat, name was Arckle, an' he…" Telson began to retell a series of tales at that.

Caldwell sunk his hook deep into Regner's shoulder. The weasel snarled; that was the same arm that had been broken in his battle with Oxpaw, and it was still a little sore. In retaliation, he attempted to claw his way towards Caldwell's face, where he would eat the hare's eyes out of their sockets. Caldwell used his free paw to try and clamp Regner's jaw shut, but it only wound up partially in the weasel's mouth. Regner bit down hard, severing one of the fingers and tearing up the others.

The colonel kicked up again with both legs, shoving Regner off of him. The hook was ripped out of the weasel's shoulder, red and shiny. The weasel flew back through the air and landed a few lengths away with a dull plop. Caldwell leapt up and ran at Regner, then began to kick him furiously in the head.

"Uh, Telson, it looks like Regner's losin'," the small weasel pointed out, cutting off a story about a stoat who had been completely de-limbed by a hungry eagle before finally having his head crushed by a huge boulder that happened to fall off a cliff an hit him. "Mayhap we oughtta step in now."

Telson looked at the situation briefly. Regner had pretty much been kicked into unconsciousness, and Caldwell was not letting up, despite the fact that he was bloody all over, missing a finger, and profusely bleeding from the hole Regner had bitten out of his arm.

"Yeah, mayhap yer right," the ferret replied. In a flash, the two dashed at Caldwell. The short weasel held a sword to the hare's neck and Telson had his hatchet between the hare's ears.

"Uh… Stop kickin' Regner or we'll kill ya!" the miniscule weasel squeaked, his sword quivering. Caldwell actually did stop kicking Regner for a second, and then continued without a second thought.

"Don't kill him," Telson snapped, "Or Regner'll be really mad when he wakes up. Uh… Make sure he doesn't kill Regner, I'll be right back!" The ferret dashed off, leaving the weasel to stand there nervously. Caldwell continued kicking Regner savagely, and the weasel wondered if Regner was actually dead.

Then, suddenly, Telson leapt out of nowhere, tackling Caldwell to the ground. Swiftly, he dealt a blow to the hare's head with a small rock. Caldwell slumped over, unconscious.

"Learned that trick from a feller name Aldana," the ferret explained as he rose from the ground, "Nice feller, until an arrer hit him in the eye! Course, even then, he still had this silly grin on his face, an' it creeped us all out, so we buried him quick an' got outta there quick as possible!"

"Ha!" the short weasel shouted to the air, ignoring Telson's macabre tale, "We captured their leader! Y'hear that, Schaeper?! We captured their leader!!! An' yew all thought we couldn't capture Salamandastron by ourselves! Well, yew were wrong!!! HA!"

---

"Yew hear sumthin'?" Schaeper asked. The group halted, all of them suddenly becoming silent. They hadn't walked very far at all; they weren't even off of the beach yet.

"Hear wot?" demanded Skrobb, "I didn't hear nuttin'. Now, let's git out o' here. I wanna go home."

"Nah, I heard it too!" exclaimed Karder, Reyla's mate. Other members of the group started to agree as well, to Skrobb's dismay. The rat found that he wanted to go home very, very badly and that he didn't like seeing all these… vermin. He hated anything and everything that wasn't himself.

"It sounded like lil' Reiss," Schaeper announced, "Didn't he stay back with Regner an' Telson?"

Before anybeast could make a reply, the small weasel named Reiss shouted again. It sounded little more than a tiny squeak from the distance they were at (Reiss wasn't a very loud creature), but it was audible. Reiss spouted a lot more "Take that, Schaeper!"s and "We captured their leader!"s.

"Uhhh… Somebeast, go check it out," Schaeper ordered. A regular-looking ferret complied, swiftly running back to see what was amiss.

A minute or so later, the ferret returned. "Well, from wot I saw, it looks like Reiss an' Telson captured that one leader hare, and Regner looks kinda dead." He shrugged, and then vanished back into the group.

"Hmm…" Schaeper began, pondering this, "If they caught the leader of the Long Patrol… Then maybe we _do _have a chance! In fact, a bunch of leaderless hares against us… that would be an easy battle!"

"No!" Skrobb quickly snapped, "We don't have a leader, either! Didn't ya hear? Regner's dead! We oughtta jus' go home right now, like we were gonna do! Or didja only wanna go home cuz yew was losin'?"

"Who said that Regner has ta be our leader?" Schaeper demanded, "I'm a perfectly able leader! I'll lead ya all ta victory! Don'tcha all think so?" Among the crowd, there were a few affirmative responses. Most of the group, however, just looked forward blankly. "Well, we got their leader as a hostage now, an' that's way better than some stupid mouse! We've got the advantage! Think of all the riches in that mountain! Once we take it over, it'll be a great new home, don'tcha think?"

There were a few more affirmative responses. "Well, I'm not gonna risk my hide just fer yew to get a fancy mountain," Skrobb snapped, "I'm goin' home, an' everybeast who wants ta come with me, let's go."

"Do yew even know the way back ta yer home?" Schaeper snapped. Skrobb and the handful of vermin who had sided with him looked around uneasily. After a few seconds, many of them moved over to Schaeper's side. "It's a dangerous world out there, y'know. Filled with all kinds o' ghoulies. Didn't ya ever hear anything Telson ever said? Yew can git yer head bitten off by snakes an' giant birds an' all kinds o' monsters!"

The remainder of Skrobb's little group remembered all the stories Telson told in gory, bloody detail. All of them, with the exception of Skrobb himself, moved back to Schaeper's side.

Skrobb looked back nervously at the forest that he would have to traverse. He hated to admit it, but Schaeper was right. He didn't know the way back, and while he didn't believe any monster snakes were going to eat him, he knew there were all kinds of vermin bands roaming about that would take great pleasure in stealing everything he had (which wasn't much; just his cutlass) and throwing him in the stream, weighted down by rocks. Reluctantly, he moved over to Schaeper's side.

The stoat smiled. "Okay, then. Let's go capture ourselves a mountain!"

---

Wemys, Yugu, Kleid, Murkeye, and Davian all stood on the shoreline, still looking at the spot where the ship had burned into nothingness, along with all of their friends (at least, that's what they thought).

"Guess they're all dead…" Kleid muttered. She hadn't ever really liked any of them, but she hadn't really disliked any of them either, not even Swiss or Jeld. "Burning's a horrible way ta die, y'know. Slow, painful, and hot."

"I figgered," Murkeye replied solemnly, "Pretty lucky that Regner chose us ta git off the ship, or we'd have burned too. I guess now I'll never git that medal of mine back from Jeld, though."

"Conrad an' the rest are all dead an' all ya care 'bout is a stupid medal?" Wemys snapped. Murkeye merely shrugged.

"Funny, I only got off cuz Regner thought I looked nice," Kleid chuckled, "An' Wemys only got off cuz Regner knew yer brother an' thought ya might be a good fighter like him. I can jus' imagine his surprise when he finds out ya couldn't take on a fly an' win."

"Doesn't anybeast here have respect fer the dead?" Wemys demanded, "You two are talkin' 'bout how funny it is that ya got off an' how ya aren't gonna get yer medals back, Davian's jus' kinda walkin' around, an' Yugu is… Well, I dunno what Yugu's doin'." He looked at the other four accusingly.

"Yugu's cryin' over her mate, Garland," Murkeye pointed out, "And the only reason we ain't cryin' too is cuz we didn't really like any of the creatures on there. All they ever did was complain or steal our stuff."

"He ain't my mate," Yugu snapped, "Just a friend, that's all."

"Yeah, like we're gonna believe that fer two seconds," Kleid muttered, rolling her eyes, "Now, we need ta stop cryin' an' figger out wot we're gonna do next. Wot happened to Regner's horde?"

They turned around. Regner was a senseless bundle of fur on the ground. Telson and Reiss were tying up Caldwell, who was also out like a light.

"Guess now might be a good time ta make our escape," Murkeye pointed out. Unfortunately for them, at that exact moment, Schaeper led the rest of the horde over a sand dune and back down to where Regner was.


	34. The Remnants

**Author's Note: I don't see why this part seems shorter than the others. All three of them were exactly 13 chapters. In fact, this one's even longer than the other two, because the chapters have a lot greater length.**

**A bit of a filler chapter here, although it sets up the next chapter, which is pretty important.**

* * *

XXXIV: The Remnants

If Schaeper and the rest of his group had managed to get over one more sand dune before hearing Reiss' shouts, they would have stumbled upon ten completely soaked creatures as they bumbled up to shore, sputtering and spitting out sea water.

Crowley clambered to shore first, where he proceeded to relocate his last few fingers. He had decided it wouldn't be too smart to swim straight to Regner, where they would be forced to do a suicide charge against the Long Patrol, and led the group a good distance away before having them finally get to shore. Behind him, the other nine emerged, with the few who couldn't swim (such as Garland) being supported by the ones who were strong swimmers (such as Curvetail).

Tadds crawled up, panting heavily, and threw down Jeld's two bags. It had been very difficult to keep them up above water, but he had been able to do it. He grinned victoriously before passing out on the sand.

In the back, being supported by both Swiss and Jeld, was Limptail. As he was pushed onto shore, the cutlass, now cooled by the sea water, finally left his paw and hit the sand with a thud. He had a blank expression on his face. Nobeast paid him any heed, however. There were more pressing issues at hand.

"Wot're we gonna do now?" Crowley asked as the other nine made their way up to him, "An' where's Conrad?"

"He's dead," mumbled Jeld. Crowley, an experienced mumbler, was able to understand what he had said and frowned.

"That means we need a new leader," the magician announced, "I say we take a vote."

"Isn't Weltsnout s'posed ta be in charge?" asked Lersot, "He's the second-in-command. Doesn't that mean that when it comes to commanding, he's second? Err… Or sumthin' like that."

The all looked at Weltsnout, who had removed both his eye and the splinter in it, leaving a dark hole in the side of his head. Despite this, he looked as if nothing was wrong at all. Several of the crew shuddered and looked away.

"Jeld, do yew have an eyepatch in that bag o' yers?" Curvetail questioned. Jeld shook his head.

"Wait!" exclaimed Rebule, "I've got an eyepatch!" Swiftly, he materialized the humungous thing Regner had worn when he had been Abren. He tossed it to Weltsnout, who cheerily put it on his face. He looked even more comical with it than Abren had looked.

"I don't even wanna ask why ya had that," Lersot muttered.

"Look," Crowley interrupted, changing the subject back to the question of leadership, "Weltsnout will stay second-in-command. That's a very important job, y'know. Somebeast who doesn't have an important job would hafta be leader, because if a creature with an important job did, then there'd be nobeast to do that job. Now, who doesn't have an important job 'round here?"

"Me!" Jeld exclaimed. He had already fished his golden coin out of his pack and had it in his mouth again. The stoat shuffled through his pack some more, pulled out yet another deck of cards, and stashed it in the folds of his cloak.

"Nah, Jeld, it can't be yew," Crowley announced, "Yew hafta look after all our supplies. It's gotta be somebeast like me, or Swiss!"

"Wot?" Swiss exclaimed, "My job is very important! I'm the head odd jobber, y'know!"

"Fine, then!" snapped Crowley, "Then it's gotta be somebeast like me, or Limptail!" He motioned at the ferret in question with a paw. Limptail was still sitting silently, clutching the sword he had brought with him.

"It could be me," Curvetail interjected, "I don't have no important job, an' I was already a senior member of the group, an' I'm the best fighter here, I'll bet. Except maybe fer Weltsnout. Everybeast says he's supposed to be like a miniature Percival or wotever, but I ain't ever seen him fight."

Crowley frowned. He had forgotten about Curvetail. He had hoped his little bit about the "important jobs" would have eliminated every competent creature from being eligible to lead, with the exception of him. "Yeah, but, uh, ya gotta be a bosun."

"Oh, stow it," Curvetail shot, "Nobeast here knows wot a bosun does, anyways. Now, I say I'm in charge, an' all who agree with me, say 'aye'!"

"Wait one minute," Garland announced, pointing a finger at Crowley accusingly, "When the first-in-command dies, the second-in-command takes his place, an' ya get a new second-in-command! That's the way it s'posed ta work!"

Jeld grabbed Garland by the neck and dragged him close. The gambler, with the coin still rolling around in his mouth, quickly whispered, "Yeah, most o' us know that. But Weltsnout ain't right in the head. We all know Conrad only made him second-in-command so he wouldn't leave like Percival and Connerie did. So, shut yer gob 'bout this an' let us work this out."

The stoat released Garland, and the ferret moved back a few steps. "Aye, I see. Yeah, I was wrong 'bout all that I jus' said, don't mind me…"

Curvetail continued his little speech. "Now, all who say I should be in charge, vote 'aye', ya got that?"

There were a myriad of ayes. The only creatures who didn't say aye were Tadds, who was unconscious on the beach, Limptail, who was still brooding over what had happened in the burning ship, and Weltsnout, who was busy adjusting his new eyepatch. Even Crowley said aye, knowing that there wasn't really a chance of him getting to be in charge at that point.

"Great," announced Curvetail, "Now, first order of business is ta arm ourselves. Jeld was smart enough ta bring his bag o' weapons, so let's go through it."

Jeld opened his second bag. "I'm 'fraid there ain't much in here, Curvy. Regner's bunch went through it afore they started their mutiny. They left that set o' bow an' arrers, but since Kleid ain't here, it's pretty much useless ta us. Crowley an' Limptail are gonna hafta use the weapons they have, fer starters."

"Ah, I don't wanna use this soggy spear," Crowley muttered. Nobeast paid him any heed.

"Let's see… I got a ball 'n chain thingamajig, that looks like sumthin' Curvy would want," Jeld tossed the weapon over to the new leader, who picked it up, smiling, "An' I got a chain thing, ya use it like a whip... I guess I'll leave that fer Tadds. Here's a regular old sword, I guess Garland can have that. Wot else is down here…? Not much… Ah, here's sumthin'. A hammer fer Lersot an' a large hook fer Rebule. Who does that leave…? Err… About fifty throwing knives. I guess they didn't like throwin' knives. I'll give that ta Weltsnout."

Jeld tossed the entire bag to Weltsnout, who shook it as if it were a present and he was trying to figure out its contents.

"Wait, what do I get?" asked Swiss, "As the head odd jobber, I need a very good weapon, y'know!"

"Hold on, I'll getcha sumthin!" Jeld snapped. He grabbed his second bag and began shuffling through it. Curvetail and Crowley exchanged glances, apprehensively wondering what kind of 'weapon' Jeld would have stored in his bag of random junk. At least it was only Swiss getting something from there. "Here ya go, a trick dagger." Jeld tossed a small knife over to Swiss. It hit the sand point down, and the blade instantly retracted into the hilt.

"Amazing!" Swiss exclaimed, "That's the best weapon ever!" He picked up the useless knife and jabbed forward with it, testing it out.

"Wot are yew gonna use, Jeld?" asked Curvetail, "Not another trick dagger, right? Yer one of our best fighters, ya need ta use a weapon that can at least, y'know, kill something."

Jeld smiled and pulled a deck of cards out of his cloak. The deck looked like all of his other decks, but the corners of the cards looked irregularly pointy. "Yew know me, Curvy, I always got a trick 'r two up my sleeve."

"Ah, Jeld, don't be dumb," Curvetail snapped, "Ya know those things don't work, right? We tried it out that one day on those trees, remember? They couldn't do nuttin'. Get yerself a better weapon."

"Be quiet," Jeld replied, "Yer jus' jealous cuz my weapon has style."

Curvetail was about to say something when Crowley interrupted. "Can we stop bickerin' over such stupid things an' figger out wot we're gonna do now?" he exclaimed. Jeld and Curvetail backed off.

"Well, we gotta rescue Yugu an' the rest of 'em," Garland announced, "An' I guess we oughtta get revenge on Regner fer muckin' everythin' up fer us, too."

"How're we gonna do that?" Crowley scoffed, "There's only ten of us, an' twenty of them. They got double our numbers, not to mention they all got real weapons, not trick daggers an' decks of cards. Plus, they got a seasoned warlord on their side. The best we got is Curvetail, an' maybe Weltsnout, if we make him mad."

"Wot if Weltsnout's actually better than Percival?" Jeld suddenly asked.

"I doubt that," Crowley muttered, "O' course, we got the element of surprise with us… Hmm… Mayhap we could team up with those hares? They seem to be in a pickle themselves, I wouldn't be surprised if they let us help 'em."

"I sure would," Curvetail laughed, "Have yew ever even talked ta a Long Patrol hare? Me an' Conrad an' Jeld did once, afore yew were even part of the group. Most prideful little prick I ever saw, that hare. Wouldn't say nuttin' except how we was all vermin, vermin, vermin. Said we oughtta all rot in a hole somewheres. Remember that, Jeld?"

"Yeah, we found him all beat up. Apparently, his squad got killed in some sneak attack an' he was left fer dead. He saw us comin', holed himself in between a couple of rocks, an' jabbed at us with his spear if we even came a little bit close. Wouldn't even ask us wot we wanted. Trust us, there ain't no way those hares would want our help."

"Then mayhap we can attack Regner when they're attackin' Regner," Crowley suggested. This was met with more criticism from the rest of the group.

Curvetail shook his head. "Yeah, an' when Regner's finished, they'll move right on ta us, no questions asked. I don't wanna deal with those hares one bit. Conrad was 'fraid of 'em, an' he was fer a good reason. We go on the battlefield when they're fightin', we're all gonna wind up dead."

"Then wot're we s'posed ta do?" Rebule asked, his eyes wide, "Wot if the hares know we're here right now? Wot if they're already plannin' to attack? Oh, we're through! Done for! Finished!"

"Shut up!" Curvetail snapped, "Leave the talkin' ta me an' Jeld an' Crowley. The rest of yew don't know wot yer talkin' 'bout, so shut up an' don't interfere, ya got that? Now, there's only ten of us here, yeah, but there's five more of us with Regner right now. That makes it fifteen against twenty, which aren't too shabby odds, considering we got the element of surprise with us."

"Yeah, but Kleid an' the rest don't even know we're alive," Crowley replied, "They'll be jus' as surprised as Regner's troops when we start attackin'. We need ta let 'em know we're here somehow."

"We can infiltrate Regner's army," Lersot suddenly exclaimed. Curvetail was about to silence him, but thought better of it. "Me an' Rebule, I mean. We look normal an' ordinary, an' none of them really knew us, unlike Garland. We'd blend right in, an' we could tell Kleid an' the rest 'bout our plans an' maybe even get some information from Regner in the process."

"That actually seems like a good plan," Crowley muttered, "But Rebule's got that big cut on his face from when Regner whipped him."

"That ain't a problem," interjected Garland, "Davian didn't spare the whip one bit on Regner's soldiers when they were our prisoners; in fact, it'd actually look more normal if ya had a slash on yer face."

"Don't any of yew idiots know that yer s'posed to whip slaves in the back, not the face?" Curvetail said absent-mindedly, rubbing the wound on his own face.

Jeld, ignoring Curvetail, said, "Then that's settled. Rebule an' Lersot, yew two'll go an' make sure Kleid knows we ain't all dead, maybe get some information about Regner's plans, an' then get outta there. Any complaints?"

Limptail, who had been silent the entire meeting, suddenly raised his paw. "Jus' one, Jeld. I think I should go, instead o' Rebule an' Lersot. The slaves oughtta have seen 'em 'round camp 'nough times that it's likely at least one will recognize 'em. Me an' Wemys, though, we were off lookin' fer a ship, so they've only seen me a little bit, if at all. I think I should go, cuz of that."

"I agree with that," Rebule exclaimed quickly, "Limptail should go, not me!"

Jeld shrugged. "I guess that makes sense… Okay, then, Limptail's gonna go instead of Lersot an' Rebule. Any complaints 'bout _that_?"

"Nope, none wotsoever!" Rebule was quick to reply. Curvetail glared at him, but the ferret was right. Nobeast had anything else to say on the matter.

---

Regner woke up surrounded by his soldiers. His soldiers all turned and looked down at him in stunned silence. All of them had thought that the weasel was dead. Schaeper had led his group back, where he got into a confusing discussion with Telson and Reiss. Telson had compared everything to an event long ago where a fox named Gorton was chopped in half by a giant pair of scissors and Reiss had tried to assure Schaeper that they were going to win.

"'Ey, iddn't he s'posed ta be dead?" Schaeper snapped at the pair, pointing at Regner, who had just gotten up. Despite quite a few bumps and the one part in his shoulder where Caldwell had stabbed him with his hook, the weasel looked alright.

"I never said that," Reiss squeaked.

"I once knew this feller named Wellenkamp who was gutted like a frog an' all his innards fell out… But he was still alive! An' he was still a nice feller, even after that! The cap'n jus' shoved all his guts back into his stomach and put a big bandage over it, an' he was jus' fine! We all thought he was dead, but—"

"Shut up!" shouted Skrobb.

"Ugh… Schaeper… You came back…?" Regner moaned, rubbing his head. Unknown to all but himself, the warlord had already armed himself with a dagger he had hidden in his large coat. This would be the perfect time to dispatch Schaeper and regain his horde.

"Sure did, chief," Schaeper replied. Regner noticed that the stoat was holding the saber he had dropped in the fight with Caldwell. Where was Caldwell, anyways? Regner couldn't see him at all through the circle of soldiers around him. "We got over a few dunes, then I realized that I was bein' really stupid fer leavin' ya, an' I came back."

"Oh… That's nice, Schaeper… I think I may jus' make ya a cap'n in my army now, jus' fer that," Regner smiled, anticipating a charge any second now. He could charge first, but he needed to impress the horde in order to get their favor back.

"Really?" Schaeper replied, a fake tone of surprise in his voice, "That'd be jus' great, Regner!"

As soon as he finished the last word, Schaeper charged forward with the saber. Regner ducked under the blow and tripped the stoat with a sweeping kick. Schaeper flew forward, slamming into the sand. Regner threw the dagger he had at the ready. It whizzed through the air, taking off Schaeper's ear and landing right next to his face.

The stoat gave up very easily. He let go of the saber and wailed, "Don't kill me, s-sir! I'm surrendering, okay! Jus' don't kill me, p-please!"

Regner picked up his saber and examined it closely. "What do you think, Telson? Should I slay this traitor or not?"

Telson smiled. "Normally, I'd say yes, but considering how we need all the troops we can git, I say we have him replace that fox an' his crew as the suicide squad. Ya know, I once knew this nice feller who—"

"Yeah, I think that's a great idea," Regner replied, cutting off Telson's story before it could even start, "You're going to replace Conrad, Schaeper. Reiss, tie him up, please. The rest of you, I'm going to let you off easy, as long as you don't try to betray me again."

"Now that we've captured the leader of the Long Patrol, there's no way that we can lose!" Reiss exclaimed as he heaved a weeping Schaeper away.

Regner internally frowned. So Telson and Reiss had captured Caldwell. He had wanted that stupid hare dead. But Regner did not show that. He knew having the leader of the hares captive was a huge tactical advantage for him. He would interrogate him for all the information he knew, get the rest of the hares to do stupid things to save him, and then finally, once Salamandastron was his, execute him personally. Regner liked that plan very much.

"Yes," Regner said, "All of you doubted me, but I assure you, they don't call me Regner the Magnificent for nothing. Stick with me, and I guarantee Salamandastron will be ours!" He held up his saber. There was a half-hearted cheer, and Regner noticed a few of the soldiers seemed a little skeptical, but Regner was okay with that. None of them seemed mutinous any more, and he had more supporters now than before.

As he continued to rile up his small army, he noticed Wemys and the other four he had yanked off Conrad's ship in the back, all of them looking unsure. Conrad figured he could make good use of them, especially Wemys. He was Deathblaze's brother, so he had to have some sort of talent as a fighter. From what he had heard from the crew, he wasn't anything special, but Regner was sure that was because he had never received any training. Well, Regner mused to himself, he would just have to change that.


	35. The Spy

**Author's Note: I love this chapter. In my opinion, it's the most well-written chapter in Part III, with the possible exception of a later chapter where an important Part II character is reintroduced, complete with allusions to Lord of the Flies and stuff. Seriously, though, this chapter is just so sadistically hilarious. I through snide humor out throughout the chapter, only to top it off with one big pathetic ending (and no, the ending itself isn't pathetic; it's what happens in the ending). Uh... Of course, now that I said this, I'm probably just setting you guys up for a disappointment. I'm sure there'll probably be a lot of you who don't like the humor, as it is pretty cruel. . **

* * *

XXXV: The Spy

Tabbins muttered angrily to himself. Caldwell had messed up yet again. In a way, the lieutenant felt sorry for his commanding officer. Caldwell _meant _well. Everything he did was so that casualties would be kept at an absolute minimum. It's just that everything he did usually made more casualties than there would have been.

Tabbins knew he couldn't place all of the blame on Caldwell; it had been him who had suggested they go "spring the trap" and accidentally caused Ballantyne and his crazy stoat friend to take over Salamandastron. But the mess-up with Redwall and the situation they were in now was completely the colonel's fault. It made Tabbins angry to no end. If the colonel had attacked Regner and his whopping _two _soldiers with the _twenty _hares he had at his disposal, this entire ordeal would have been over. The rest of Regner's soldiers would have been long-gone, Regner would have been dead, everybeast would be happy. Sure, maybe one or two hares would get killed, but not only was that unlikely, but it was a necessary risk, at least to Tabbins. What was one or two soldiers when the whole was threatened?

Tabbins almost didn't want to even try to mount a rescue operation. It was exactly what Regner was planning on them doing; that's why he hadn't killed Caldwell in the first place. Of course, that wouldn't work with the rest of the troops. No, they had to save their suicidal but well-meaning colonel, even though there was extreme danger. They were hares, crazy and perilous beasts, or however the saying went. Tabbins had never really paid attention to any of that happy junk.

Didn't these hares have any idea of military strategy? It was nice to be noble, but it was also stupid! The vermin they were fighting cheated, so why shouldn't they? None of it made any sense.

Tabbins, even though he was now technically the commanding officer of the Long Patrol, could not get his hares to agree with these sentiments. And thus, he had been forced to think of some sort of strategy that could rescue Caldwell and not get them all killed while the rest of the hares sat back and talked with that sniveling mouse, Gerry, as he told them all about his horrid childhood and how hard it had been to work as a galley slave under Captain Tronto. Tabbins made a mental note: If this Tronto character and his eighty searats ever attacked them, they were completely doomed. They couldn't even handle twenty of Regner's previous rejects.

The lieutenant figured he ought to stick with something simple: Clements and maybe a couple other hares would distract Regner and the rest while he rescued the stupid colonel. Simple enough plan, and he should be able to pull it off easily enough if Regner didn't wise up and leave guards. Which Tabbins found all-too-likely. Of course Regner was expecting a rescue operation. He'd probably not even take the bait unless there was a good reason to. After a bit of thinking, Tabbins figured out what that good reason would be. He'd send Clements, who was very skilled with a bow, to attempt an assassination on Regner. Sure, it probably wouldn't work, but that wasn't the point. The point was that it'd get Regner to try and do something and take the bait.

Tabbins sighed. He seriously doubted the plan would work.

---

Limptail wasn't nervous in the least as he stealthily made his way into Regner's group. Lersot had been right; he did blend in perfectly. Nobeast even gave him a second glance as he slowly moved through the group. Most were lounging about, with about a quarter of them standing as guards, although they were all looking in the direction of Salamandastron. Regner stood by his prisoner, that one hare, waiting for him to become conscious again. The warlord was standing with Wemys and one of his army, a battle-worn ferret.

Well, he wouldn't be able to tell Wemys personally, it looked. That was disappointing; most of the reason he had done this was to repay Wemys for saving him from the lizards. He moved on, looking for one of the four other members of Conrad's group that Regner had taken with him.

He saw Murkeye sitting with a couple of other rats, talking about something. Limptail figured he wouldn't be able to tell her, either.

"Telson?"

Limptail turned suddenly, able to tell that the voice was addressed to him. He was facing a very short weasel. "Huh?" Limptail asked.

"Oh, sorry," the weasel replied in a high-pitched, squeaky voice, "I thought yew were Telson. Don't mind me, then." The weasel then brushed past him, not even giving Limptail a second thought.

The ferret continued looking for the rest of his friends. After a bit of searching, he saw Yugu and Kleid, both of them standing alone, far away from Regner. Perfect. Limptail casually made his way over to them. He was getting close when a scaly claw grabbed his shoulder and span him around.

"I know you," Davian said, a little too loudly. Limptail looked around nervously. Davian could blow this big time.

Ever since the incident at Redwall, Limptail had avoided Davian as much as possible. Even though the lizard had been a lot nicer to him than Marclaw had, and had saved his skin a multitude of times (albeit for his own gains), Limptail just didn't like being around lizards any more. He shivered as Davian's piercing eyes stared into him menacingly.

"No, yew don't know me, ya scaly lump," Limptail announced, altering his voice passably, "I don't know wotcher talkin' 'bout."

Davian looked at Limptail skeptically for a few moments, then let go and hobbled away on his peg leg, not saying another word. Limptail looked around to find out if anybeast had become suspicious after that. None had. Determining that the coast was clear, he continued over to Yugu and Kleid.

---

Regner was having difficulty with Wemys.

"Difficulty" wasn't the right word, though. Ballantyne had taught Regner a whole bunch of higher-level vocabulary words, but the warlord couldn't come up with a word that properly put Wemys' skill level into perspective. The closest he could think of was "abysmal".

If the stoat didn't look so much like his brother, Regner would have sworn that there was no possible way they could be related. Wemys wasn't weak, and he wasn't slow, but he was just plain horrible. He made every mistake in the book. He wasn't even using the right paw when holding a sword. Regner had put him through a battery of tests, many he invented on the spot, and they all pointed to the fact that Wemys might just be the worst fighter in all of Mossflower.

Regner had had Wemys spar with Telson, and the stoat accidentally disarmed himself before the fight even began. Regner lobbed rocks at Wemys (underpaw, to boot) to test his evasion, and every single rock hit him. Regner had Wemys throw knives to see how his aim was, and if Reiss wasn't so small, he'd have been hit in the neck. While that might have seemed like a good thing, Reiss had been standing behind them on the other side of the small camp they had made. The stoat had absolutely no natural talent whatsoever.

Despite this, Regner kept trying. There had to be some part of Deathblaze that was in Wemys, despite the stoat's claims that there wasn't. At the moment, he and Telson were instructing Wemys in swordfighting.

"You remind me of this—" Telson began, but Regner silenced him. He had slowly been getting better and better at stopping Telson before he started, which was a relief. He didn't need the ferret scaring Wemys with horror stories about creatures who had been eaten alive by insects or something macabre like that.

"Now, you're going to want to hold your sword like this," Regner explained, showing Wemys at the same time, "No, not like that. You aren't left-pawed, you know." There was a dull monotone in his voice. It was the best Regner could do, considering how horrible Wemys was. The warlord was beginning to lose hope.

"I keep telling you, I'm not a good fighter like Percival was," Wemys tried to explain, still holding his sword wrong, "Conrad tried the same thing you are. He thought maybe I also had my brother's talent locked away somewhere. But I don't. I'm pretty sure about that."

"Nah, ya jus' gotta believe in yerself!" Telson exclaimed reassuringly. Regner couldn't tell if the ferret was just saying that to motivate Wemys or he genuinely meant it. "I wasn't the greatest fighter out there myself, y'know, but I kept practicin' an' trainin' an' pretty soon I became the best fighter in the horde! I rose ta the rank o' cap'n quicker than quick! Course, that all ended when the entire horde accidentally walked into a cave that was a home fer a hungry wolf! It ate 'em all, usin' their bones as toothpicks! But the point is, ya gotta keep tryin'!"

Although it was perhaps the worst motivational speech Regner had ever heard, the weasel had to admit that Telson sounded pretty sincere. Wemys shrugged. "I'll keep trying, but I think yer all wastin' yer time on me."

Regner frowned and continued his lesson.

---

Yugu and Kleid recognized Limptail almost immediately, but they smartly remained quiet until he got close enough to them.

"We thought yew were all dead," Kleid whispered, looking around. A few creatures saw them, but none of them seemed to have made any sort of connections, or even cared at all.

"Is Garland okay?" Yugu also whispered, although she was a bit louder than Kleid had been.

"All of us made it out," Limptail explained, "All of us, that is, except… except pore ol' Conrad. He… burned." The ferret looked down shamefully. The more he thought about it, the more he figured he should have killed Conrad. He didn't know that if he had killed Conrad, right now he would be thinking about how he shouldn't have. None of the choices were good for Limptail. None of them ever had been, and none of them would be, right up to the end of his life.

"Well, that's pretty bad fer him," Kleid said, sighing, "I've been with him fer a while now, an' he always had our best interests at heart. He was always so torn up over everything… I think he jus' wanted ta ditch us all an' leave, like his sister had done. Wot a lousy way ta go out."

"Well, yeah…" Limptail muttered, not really daring to say anything else. After a pause, he continued, "Curvetail's in charge now, an' he's trying to rescue all of yew an' get revenge on Regner. They sent me ta tell ya ta be ready when we attack. We don't know when it'll be, but… keep yer wits 'bout ya. We'll be comin' from o'er that way when we do attack, so keep yer eyes open. Tell Wemys an' Murkeye when ya get the chance, but be careful with Davian. I dunno if he's smart enough ta keep a secret."

"I agree," Kleid whispered, "Davian's not all there in the head. I don't know if any lizard's all there in the head, actually. Never met a lizard afore him, but I heard they're all pretty dumb." She looked around again. "Now, ya oughtta git out o' here afore anybeast become suspicious of ya."

"Oh, yeah, o' course," Limptail nodded, "Goodbye." He said the last word with surprising finality. Yugu thought for a second, then stopped Limptail as he began to walk away. She whispered something in his ear, so that Kleid couldn't hear. Limptail nodded again, saying, "Yeah, I'll be sure ta tell him that. Gotcha."

Then he walked away. He had one last thing to do before he left; he was going to try and see if he could learn anything valuable from Regner.

---

Clements crawled amongst the dunes slowly and carefully. There were five or six guards posted by Regner; that was nothing. He could sneak by them without even giving it a second thought. After a bit of deliberation, Tabbins had decided Clements would go alone, to avoid risking detection. Clements was glad. Most of the hares didn't have a stealthy bone in their body.

His mission was pretty simple: attempt to assassinate Regner the Magnificent, and distract him long enough so Tabbins could swoop in and rescue Colonel Caldwell. It would be like eating cake, Tabbins had said. Clements liked cake. Maybe he'd get that one pretty haremaid to cook him a big victory cake when he killed Regner and rescued Caldwell. Maybe then he'd be promoted to an officer, too. Maybe… a colonel! Colonel Clements, eighteen seasons old, the youngest colonel in all of history! The words sounded sweet, but Clements decided he liked the victory cake idea even more. He'd make sure the cake was huge, so he could eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and snack time, and tea time, and cake time, and for a midnight snack, and for breakfast the next day, and for lunch the next day, and so on, and so on. Maybe he could have several victory cakes. Maybe he could have an endless supply of victory cakes. Hmm… all this thinking about cake was making Clements hungry. He'd have to get that cake fast, he figured. Hmm… Now, what kind of frosting would he want on that cake? Maybe he could have all the frosting on the cake, with each type layered over the other. Maybe they could change that big forge area into a cake-eating room. It wasn't like another badger lord was just going to show up at there door and demand to forge something.

He crept around a large dune, easily avoiding the small amount of guards Regner had posted. Still thinking to himself about all the victory cake he would get for his valiant efforts, he drew his bow. Regner's small army was in sight now. Clements looked back and saw Tabbins way off in the distance. He looked ready enough. Clements returned his attention to the horde and began scanning it for Regner. After a bit of searching, he caught sight of the weasel, but he was too far away for Clements to hit him.

Cautiously, he crept forward around the dune, still avoiding the lazy eyes of the handful of guards with ease. His stomach rumbled. He figured that he should have told them to start making the victory cake before he left. That way, it'd have been ready when he got back.

Regner was pretty close now. He was talking to a young-looking stoat and a battle-hardened ferret, both of whom were obviously Regner's partners in his villainy. They probably enjoyed going to sleep listening to the screams of tortured babes at night, Clements figured. Just a couple of murderous, disgusting vermin who deserved what he was about to give them.

For the babes! …And the victory cake.

Clements pulled back his bowstring, an arrow pointed directly for Regner's skull. Before he had the chance to let loose, however, somebeast screamed, "Look out!! Wemys, look out!!"

Nobeast was going to stop him from getting his victory cake! He wheeled around in the direction of the screamer and let his arrow fly. It zipped through the air in a quick blur, where it went right into the neck of some ferret or another.

---

Limptail was dead before he hit the ground, blood spurting out of his neck. He fell to the sand in a crumpled heap, his eyes blank, his mouth ajar, and his tail limp. Instantly, Regner shouted, "Get that hare!!!" and a handful of assorted vermin dashed past the body, a few even stepping on it. A few more arrows whizzed past, but the hare firing them didn't have any more time to aim, and none of them hit anything but the sand. Regner, Telson, and Wemys all stayed back, watching as the hare ran back through the dunes.

Wemys recognized Limptail at once. Luckily, Regner was preoccupied with the hare, so he didn't see the mortified expression on the stoat's face. Regner had also not noticed that Limptail had called out Wemys' name shortly before he died. Wemys didn't know how his friend had survived the burning ship or why he had been there, but he didn't care, either. He ran over to his slain friend.

He didn't get a chance to mourn, however. As soon as he got to Limptail's body, he was pulled back. Kleid whispered into his ear, "Go back ta where ya were. We can't let Regner know he was here."

"But… but..."

"Yes, he's dead, but this is very important. Ya gotta make sure Regner doesn't know about him. Me an' Yugu are gonna drag the body behind that dune o'er there. Yew get back ta Regner an' distract him or sumthin', more than he already is. Don't give me any complaints, either. Yew can cry fer him, if that's wot yew were gonna do, cuz it sure seemed like it, later."

Kleid shoved Wemys forward. The distraught stoat bumbled forward, until he was standing next to Regner and Telson again. Neither of them seemed to have noticed he was absent. Wemys snuck one last look backwards and saw Kleid and Yugu dragging Limptail's body away quickly. Yugu had a disappointed look on her face, but Kleid seemed emotionless.

Davian watched them, sure that he knew that ferret. But no, he had insisted that wasn't true. Davian was a bit skeptical, but why would the ferret lie?

Tabbins, from behind a dune, cursed at his ill luck. Regner and what the lieutenant figured were his two trusted captains were still standing right by where Caldwell was tied up, still out cold. The entire plan had been a complete waste. There had been absolutely no point to it at all.

The hare frowned and ran back to Salamandastron.


	36. The Adventurer

XXXVI: The Adventurer

Regner, shortly after the events with the hare, called an assembly of his miniscule horde. He stood at the foot of a dune, with his two trusted captains Telson and Reiss backing him. He was smiling.

"We may not have caught those hares, but this was still a great victory," Regner announced, "They tried to attack us, and we were able to push them back with only one casualty! One! I saw the attackers; there were a good ten, maybe twelve of them. Yet we got them to retreat! And without great losses, too! I imagine, that when we actually do attack them, we will win without any trouble whatsoever!"

"Uhh… But we didn't kill any o' them," Reyla pointed out from the group.

"So? We got them to retreat!" Regner exclaimed, "You obviously know nothing about how war works! This is a great victory! Isn't that right, Telson?"

"O' course!" Telson affirmed, "It's like this one time, when—"

"See what I mean?" Regner interrupted, "A great victory! Now, I have begun to formulate a plan to rout these hares once and for all. Of course, I'm not going to explain it to you, because I can never know when I have a spy in my midst, but I'm still going to give you all jobs."

In the back of group Kleid and Yugu shivered. Regner had talked about a spy as if he had known about Limptail. It had to just be a coincidence, though.

"First off, I'm going to untie Schaeper. Reiss is going to be in charge of guarding him, since he's one of the few of you that I know I can trust. When we do attack, Schaeper's going to be leading the charge, as I already said." Regner glanced over at the stoat, who glared back at him. The warlord chuckled.

"I can do that, sire!" Reiss exclaimed, saluting, "Yew can count on me!"

"I know, Captain Reiss," Regner announced, smiling, "That's why you're one of my captains. Now, for the next thing. That stupid hare we have captured is bound to wake up soon. Telson is going to take a handful of you and guard him. Listen to what Telson says, because he's already been instructed as to how the plan is going to work, and knows what he's doing."

Reyla's mate, Karder, raised a paw. "Yer usin' too many big words! I don't know wot yer talkin' 'bout half the time!"

Regner shook his head. "If you think I'm bad, you should have seen my former tactician, Ballantyne. He'd have made your head explode with the words he used. Now, I'm going to use the rest of you to double the guard watching Salamandastron, so we don't have another attack like we did. This is a pretty simple plan I've got going, but as long as you all do what you're supposed to, it should work out perfectly. Are there any more questions?"

"Yeah, one," announced Murkeye, who hadn't yet been told by Kleid and Yugu that Jeld and the rest were still alive and attempting a rescue, "When the ship burnt, it took all o' our food with it. We're completely out of things ta eat."

"That isn't a problem," Regner replied, "Davian!"

The lizard poked his head out of the crowd, looking attentive. "What izz it, Your Eckzellenzy?" he asked, using the same title King Kirrent had told him to use when addressing a king or, in this case, a warlord.

"You're a good hunter, right?" Regner asked. Davian nodded. "Good. At the end of this beach is a forest. Go in there and catch enough food for all twenty of us."

Telson leaned over and whispered into Regner's ear. "That's a bit too much fer that one lizard, don'tcha think? Especially since he's got that peg leg an' all, it's gonna slow him down. I once knew a feller with a peg leg, he—"

"Okay, Telson's right," Regner interrupted, "That is a bit too much. I really don't want to spare any more soldiers, but I guess I'll have to. You three!" He pointed at Skrobb and two weird-looking characters that just happened to be standing next to him, "You'll go with Davian. Bring back enough food for all of us, you got that?"

Skrobb sighed. "Yeah, I got that, Regner." The rat looked at the two that he had been assigned to go with. They both had goofy expressions on their faces, and one had a very creepy glass eye. What luck.

"That's great," replied the weasel, "Now, everybeast, get to your stations. If Telson picks you to help him watch that one hare, then go with him. If not, then you're going to stand guard duty, you got that? I don't want anybeast just lazing around. If I see you sleeping or not doing what you're supposed to, I'll just have you join Schaeper as the leader of our charge. Any questions? Good. Now, go!"

There was a shuffle as the creatures all went to do Regner's bidding. Telson picked out seven of them rapidly and moved them over to their position near Colonel Caldwell. Reiss severed Schaeper's bonds with a small knife, along with two other soldiers Regner considered fairly loyal. The stoat was given a small sword, but he was carefully watched on all sides in case he tried anything funny. The rest all moved up to the tops of the dunes, watching Salamandastron intently.

Regner pulled Wemys out of the group before the young stoat got a chance to move to the top of the dune and stand guard. "What do ya need, Regner?" he asked overly casually, although the tone of sadness was clearly apparent in his voice.

"Is something wrong?" the weasel asked, "You don't look well."

"Why do you care?" Wemys asked, "I told you, I'm not a good fighter, like Percival was. You should just leave me alone, if you knew what was good for your horde. If you rely on me, I'll just mess up everything for you." While there was a lot of truth in his words, and Wemys knew it, he was really saying it so he wouldn't have to face Regner again and possibly- no, probably- blow the cover of Limptail. Yugu and Kleid still hadn't told him the whole story, but Wemys already had a good idea of what was going on with Jeld and the rest.

"Could you _stop_ pretending that you're horrible?!" Regner suddenly snapped, a large degree of anger in his voice, "I _know_ you can't be as bad as you say, especially considering how great your brother was!! You know what I think?! I think you're doing this on purpose, just to spite me!! You idiot!! I was nice enough to let you go, and you're just going to be useless for me!! Well, I have an idea on how to get you to fight better!!"

Regner punched Wemys in the side of the head, then grabbed him by the ear and pulled him over to where Reiss and Schaeper were. Wemys, completely taken aback by Regner's severe mood swing, had no choice but to let himself be pulled there.

"When you're leading the charge alongside Schaeper here, you'll learn to fight pretty quickly, I imagine!!" Regner delivered a large kick to Wemys' side while simultaneously throwing him down on the floor. "I've had enough of you, you stupid coward!! Reiss!! Guard him like you were Schaeper, and keep his sniveling worthless carcass out of my sight!! I tried to help him, I tried to be patient, but he is driving me crazy!! GAAH!!"

Regner stormed away. Reiss shrugged. "I ain't even seen him act like that afore," the short weasel said, mostly to himself.

Wemys suddenly found himself angry, too. "I hate you!" he shouted after Regner as Reiss and the others restrained him, "Everything is all your fault!!" Regner was the reason Conrad was dead… He was the reason Limptail was dead… He was the reason everything had gone wrong, him and his stupid mutiny.

Regner laughed humorlessly. "You sound so stupid," he muttered. Why couldn't Ballantyne and Deathblaze come back to him? Why did he have to have these cheap… imitations? When he had gotten his revenge on Salamandastron, he'd make them his slaves. All of them.

Wemys was normally cool, calm, and collected; the polar opposite of his brother. Of course, his family had always been cool, calm, and collected. It was Deathblaze who had been the exception. But now Wemys felt a lot like his brother. He was angry, his thoughts were racing, and he was confused. Very confused. All his friends were dead, and it was all because of that stupid Lord Regner the Magnificent.

Without even thinking about what he was doing, the stoat sent a well-aimed kick in the direction of Reiss. The short weasel doubled over in pain. The other two guards went for him, hoping to tackle him or knock him out. Wemys tripped one and pushed him back into the other, with both of them falling in a tangled heap.

Then the stoat began to run. He didn't even know where he was running; he was just running away as fast as he could. He had to get away from Regner, the devious poison weasel that had been the end for Conrad and Limptail and the rest. He had no idea that Schaeper was running behind him, also looking for escape. He also had no idea when a pair of bolas thrown by Buvul pretty much took Schaeper's head off, nor did he have any idea when the remains of Schaeper's brains splattered his back.

Telson was hot on Wemys' heels. He jumped over Schaeper's nearly headless body (another story to add to the list, Telson thought, although Schaeper wasn't really a nice feller), then leapt at Wemys. He missed completely, hitting the sand with a thud. With a sweep of his paw, he tried to entangle Wemys' legs, but the stoat had already gotten too far ahead.

Regner was furious. Not only was Wemys escaping, but Schaeper was now dead. He would have been good for leading the charge. He'd never had guessed that Buvul could actually use the bolas he picked out. Then he saw one last thing that could bring Wemys back alive.

"Skrobb!! STOP THAT STOAT!!" he shouted as loud as he could at the four-creature scavenging party that hadn't even made it to the forest yet. Wemys was unwittingly running right towards them!

Skrobb, Davian, and the two other weird characters (one was a ferret named Roth; the other one, with the glass eye, was a rat appropriately titled Glasseye) all heard Regner's shouts. Wemys was running straight in their direction, completely unarmed. Skrobb sighed and drew his cutlass, then ordered his two new lackeys to do the same.

"Ain't that the one stoat that Regner was givin' all that special attention to?" asked Roth, readying his scimitar, which used to belong to Conrad.

"Yeah, I think it is," replied Glasseye as he gripped his own sword, "Wonder wot happened ta make him run off like that. Regner must've gotten on his nerves or sumthin'."

"Well, wuddn't he one of those that Regner pulled off the ship afore it burnt down?" Roth said back, "Maybe it has sumthin' ta do with that! Cripes, maybe sumthin' big is goin' down!"

"Will yew two stop gossiping an' get ready ta fight?" Skrobb snapped.

None of them noticed Davian behind them. Regner realized what was happening, but by that time, it was too late. The lizard suddenly seized Skrobb, lifted him up (which was no small feat; Skrobb wasn't the lightest rat in the world) then threw him down. Roth and Glasseye both exchanged terrified glances.

Wemys dashed by them, being sure to kick Roth as he dashed by. Without hesitation, Davian ran too. Wemys had saved his life, a long time ago, and Davian would remain loyal to him much more than he would ever be loyal to Regner.

"Cripes!" shouted Roth as he fell to the ground, writhing in pain. Glasseye looked on in amazement.

"After them, you idiots!!" screamed Regner, still very far away, "Bring them back alive!!!"

It took a few moments for Glasseye to mobilize. He turned and ran after the two escapees. Skrobb followed him, muttering angrily over his bad fortune. Finally, Roth got up and trailed in the back, limping a little.

Back at the small camp, Regner began to curse extremely loudly.

---

Curvetail slowly walked down a sand dune and entered the tight circle where the remains of Conrad's crew were sitting. He didn't have any good news to share, and everybeast could tell just by looking at his face.

"Limptail's dead," Curvetail announced frankly.

"Regner found him out?" Crowley asked.

"No," Curvetail replied, "That's the idiotic part. Limptail was doing his job perfectly. Nobeast was even giving him a second thought. He managed to tell Kleid and Yugu, and I guess he was going to go for Wemys next, but then an arrow flies out of nowhere and snuffs him out quicker than it takes to snap yer fingers. It was fired by some stupid hare from the Long Patrol. Then the hare jus' leaves. It was as if he were jus' tryin' to mess us up."

"At least Regner didn't find us out," Jeld said, shrugging. He was fiddling with some random toy he had fished out of his giant bag of things. The golden coin rattled around in his mouth as it struck his teeth.

"That's the only good news I can really tell ya," Curvetail muttered angrily, "Cuz Wemys an' Davian are gone. They ran off, afore Kleid even got a chance ta tell 'em we were still alive."

"Great," Crowley muttered, "Davian was one of our best fighters."

"Wot are we gonna do now?" asked Rebule nervously, "We can't fight Regner now, there's only, uh, thirteen of us! An' thirteen is a bad number!" The ferret fidgeted around, grinding his teeth.

"Learn ta count, bonehead," Curvetail snapped, "There's twelve o' us, not thirteen, an' there's no such thing as bad numbers anyways. Now, we need ta figger out wot we're gonna do next."

There was a silence. Nobeast knew what they should do next. In the background, Swiss played around with his trick dagger. Jeld clamped down on his golden coin. Crowley bit a nail.

"Jus' great," Curvetail muttered.

---

It grew dark. Skrobb and the others still hadn't returned with Wemys and Davian. Regner paced around angrily. He had called off the plan to draw out the Long Patrol. He didn't want to attempt to wipe them out while he was missing five of his number, which was about one-fifth of his total force. If only Ballantyne were there. With his ingenious tactician at his side, he had always been unstoppable. He had even conquered Salamandastron, albeit for a short time, with the ferret's help. But, alas, Ballantyne was dead now, murdered by those stupid hares. All he had for a replacement were his two loyal captains Telson and Reiss. Neither could be considered idiots, but they weren't any help when it came to making plans. Regner had had to come up with them all himself.

There was one bright side to the incident with Wemys, though: Regner now knew that he could fight. He had taken out three armed guards with his bare paws. All he had to do was get him angry. It all made sense. Deathblaze had almost always been angry, and thus, Deathblaze had almost always been a stellar fighter. If Regner could somehow make Wemys almost always angry as well, then he would be a stellar fighter as well. But how could Regner make him angry? The weasel thought about it. He could tell him how the Long Patrol piteously slew his brother, but that probably wouldn't work. Wemys didn't seem like he had been too attached to Deathblaze, and Regner didn't blame him. The only creature who ever had been friends with the insane stoat had been Ballantyne, and Ballantyne was pretty eccentric himself.

"How 'bout that Buvul?" Reiss suddenly said. Both he and Telson were standing close by, watching Regner as he plotted things out in his head. "I'd never have thought that he would be so good with those bolas."

"Aye, I once knew a rat named Strewart, an' he used bolas. Nice feller, too, until he got his eyes gouged out an'—"

"Yeah, I guess Buvul's pretty good with those things," Regner muttered, only really speaking so he could cut off Telson. He didn't care about Buvul. Sure, it would be nice having a creature in his army who could attack at range, but he only had one pair of bolas. After he attacked once, he wouldn't really be able to attack again, unless he retrieved the bolas somehow. No, all Regner really cared about was Wemys. All he needed was some sort of key, one that would unlock the inner Deathblaze in him. But what could that key be? If Ballantyne were there, he might have been able to hypnotize the stoat, just like he had for Deathblaze…

"'Ey, Lord Regner!" shouted Reyla from far away, "That hare is wakin' up!"

Regner smiled. Finally, a little something that could take his mind off of Wemys. The weasel briskly marched over to the tied-up hare, followed by his two captains. He dismissed Reyla and her mate, who were acting as the hare's guards.

"You!" snapped Caldwell, "I'll kill you! Before I die, I swear it!"

"Yeah, maybe you will. Probably you won't. In case you haven't noticed, you're all tied up," Regner pointed out, "The rest of your troops tried to rescue you. We killed most of them. About five are left, locked up in that dumb mountain. It's only a matter of time before we kill the rest of them and conquer Salamandastron once and for all."

"That's a lie," Caldwell muttered, although it didn't sound like he believed what he was saying, "Tabbins isn't an idiot. He wouldn't try anything so dumb."

"So, what would Tabbins try, then?" Regner asked.

"Well, Tabbins is a good tactician," the colonel replied, "He'd probably… Wait. I'm not telling you anything."

Regner frowned. "Then I'll just have to torture it out of you. Although you hares seem like you wouldn't really submit to torture… I have no idea why. Oh, well. It'll still be fun to watch you scream."

The weasel smiled devilishly. Caldwell responded by spitting in his face.

---

Davian and Wemys had stopped for the night. They knew that Skrobb and his two lackeys were following them, but the pair had left them in the dust long ago. Now, Wemys had a splitting headache and was curled up in a bed of leaves, moaning pitifully. Davian sat by a small fire, warming his claws.

Wemys felt ill all over after he had come back to his senses. He knew he had just acted exactly like Percival, and that thought hurt his head. Well, not entirely like Percival. Percival would have tried to kill the entire horde before running away. But that didn't help to ease his headache.

Davian didn't know where they were going or why. He figured Wemys knew. As of late, he had relied on furry creatures to give him directions and lead him. It seemed like an eternity since Kirrent had showed up and taken over, though… Almost a million seasons ago…

He was the last one left, of course. Regner had said that Kalzmar and Corzon were dead, and all the others must have died back at Redwall. It was weird feeling. Davian never would have thought, a season or so ago when he was standing in the court of King Kirrent, receiving orders to check out a red fort, that it would eventually end with the death of every creature he ever knew.

Davian's thoughts wandered, like the usually did. Now he was on an adventure of sorts. Traipsing through the forest, running away from the bad creatures… It was like some sort of weird quest. He was Davian the Adventurer now. Or something.

Then Davian went to sleep, ignoring Wemys' moaning.

The pair walked for a few more days, wandering aimlessly. Wemys got over his headache, but he still didn't talk much, despite Davian's myriad of efforts to start some sort of conversation. The lizard didn't really know Wemys or any other members of Conrad's crew, even though he had been traveling with them for over a season.

Then, the adventure (at least to Davian) stopped abruptly. Wemys and Davian found themselves standing in front of a huge black castle in the middle of a large field. The fortress seemed completely deserted at first glance. Surrounding it were all kinds of pits and holes and mounds of dirt, with junk and trash scattered everywhere.

"What is this place?" Wemys asked. The main gate was covered with graffiti, random splatters of paint that made no sense. Several windows had been smashed in, and others had been painted over. Weird wooden structures clung to the top of the roof, all odd contraptions that neither had ever seen before.

Outside the castle, ripped and torn pieces of parchment fluttered about in the light breeze. Wemys picked one up and examined it. He wasn't a good reader, but he could make out some of the words. He let the parchment go, getting no meaning from what it said.

"What izz that?" Davian pointed at two words scrawled on the front wall of the castle in black paint. Wemys knew both words.

"It says… Castle Regner," The stoat replied, "That means…"

Suddenly, a huge boulder shot out of nowhere and slammed into the ground right in front of them. From up on the roof came maniacal, insane laughter.

* * *

**Author's Note: I believe this is like the only real cliffhanger in the story. . I normally like to resolve things within their respective chapters, but I made an exception here. Next chapter, you'll figure out who the laughing crazy guy is, and it's somebody you've seen before... Although it's probably not who you think it is. :O But yeah, the next chapter is also one of my favorite chapters in the story, as I said last chapter. It's jam-packed with allusions and stuff.**

**And, of course, we're rapidly reaching the climax. There are absolutely no new characters introduced after this chapter, minor or otherwise (with one exception of a character in the Epilogue). Also, you aren't going to see Regner and the others until Chapter 39, really. The next two chapters are pretty much complete Wemys and Davian, along with the returning character.**


	37. The Keeper

XXXVII: The Keeper

"Intruder alert!!!" screeched the laughing voice from the top of the roof. Wemys and Davian looked up to see where there attacker was throwing boulders at them from. It wasn't hard to spot him.

It was impossible to tell whether he were a ferret, weasel, or stoat, as he was so completely covered in mud he looked like some sort of alien invader. The mud-thing was working with one of the strange wooden contraptions on the roof with one paw and cradling a bottle of wine with the other. He was wearing the remains of what had once been a nice jacket, now ripped, tattered, and extremely dirty.

"Harr harr harr!!" shouted the mud-thing, "Intruders will not be tolerated here at Castle Regner!! For I am Battletide, the greatest warrior to ever tide a battle!! Harr harr harr!!" He pulled a level on the wooden contraption and another boulder was catapulted out, this time flying nowhere near Davian and Wemys. The pair exchanged looks.

Battletide, apparently out of ammunition for his wooden trebuchet, threw his bottle down at the two of them. It came up completely short, hitting the ground and smashing into a thousand tiny pieces. Battletide merely laughed, however, as if it were nothing at all.

"I think this fellow is insane," Wemys whispered to Davian, "We should just keep moving."

"Don't even think about it, you mongrels!" shouted Battletide, laughing uproariously, "I am the keeper of Castle Regner, and thou shalt not pass! Rawr!!" He pulled the lever of his contraption again, but there weren't any boulders left, so nothing happened. "Just wait for me to go and retrieve ammunition!"

The mud-thing ran down a flight of stairs into the castle. "Davian, let's not stick around fer him to come back. I'm leavin'." Wemys began to hurry away from the castle and the strange keeper. Davian was about to follow the stoat, but suddenly, the gate began to open and somebeast he had known from a long time ago stepped out. It was Corzon, followed by Darkscale. Both were waving and yelling at him, and both were dressed in very nice-looking golden armor, with about a hundred weapons strapped to them. With nobeast else around, they had been allowed to raid the castle's armory.

"Davian!" Corzon shouted, "You izz back! Kalzmar zed you dead, yez!"

"You know those two?" Wemys exclaimed, "What's going on around here?" He suddenly gave a nervous glance backwards, as if Skrobb and his two lackeys would materialize right behind them.

"Corzon, Regner zed _you _dead!" Davian yelled back. He had thought Corzon was dead for a while now, and he didn't know what exactly to do now that he wasn't.

"What is going on?!" shrieked Battletide. The mud-thing was marching out of the castle, holding an armful of small stones. Clumps of mud flew off of him every step he took. As he got closer, Wemys noticed that his eyes were yellow and blood-shot. "Corporal Corzon, these intruders must be dealt with immediately!!"

"It izz okay, Mizter Ballantyne," Corzon replied, holding out a claw, "Thiz izz Davian. I know him, yez."

"I told you!" Battletide snapped, "I am not Ballantyne! That is another creature, who is not—DEATHBLAZE?!" The mud-thing had seemed to notice Wemys for perhaps the first time. The yellow eyes grew incredibly wide and the mouth fell ajar, revealing a set of teeth that seemed oddly clean. "I am terribly sorry for meeting you like this, Sir Deathblaze! I knew you would return soon enough! Terribly sorry! Um… Please, come inside! Sir Ballantyne should be out in a bit to see you!"

Battletide turned and ran back into the castle as fast as he could. Wemys was confused. What had the weird creature just called him? Well, at least he wasn't trying to shoot them with boulders any more…

"Um…" Darkscale muttered from the back, "Mizter Ballantyne izz weird. Very, very weird, yez."

"Very weird," Corzon agreed, "Now, come in, it izz very zhiny and interezting, yez, juzt like armor!" With one claw, he knocked on his golden breastplate, smiling.

The two lizards led Wemys and Davian inside. The interior of Castle Regner was even more trashed than the exterior. The main hall alone was a sea of trash, junk, and ruins. Smashed-up parts of chairs and desks lay haphazardly on the floors. A multitude of annihilated bottles of wine were mixed amongst them, making most of the floor impossible to walk on. There was one clean pathway in the center of the room, which was well-marked by Battletide's muddy paw prints. More ripped pieces of parchment fluttered about. Wemys looked at a few of them and gathered that they had once been a story. Other pieces of parchment had odd doodles and drawings on them, often depicting death and murder.

The walls were also stained with the same black paint, with the same two words written over and over: Castle Regner. A fancy portrait of Regner the Magnificent hung on one wall, and it seemed to be the only untouched thing in the entire room. It showed Regner standing proudly amongst a vast horde, his battle axe at the ready. Wemys looked at the painting and instantly his eyes were drawn to a stoat that was standing in the background. A stoat that had to have been his brother, Percival.

Battletide was not present. A fresh trail of muddy tracks led to a door on the left side of the hallway, but Corzon advised that they not go that way. Behind them, Darkscale shut and bolted the large front gate.

"Is there anybeast here besides you two an'… Battletide?" Wemys asked, still looking at the haunting painting where his brother lurked in the shadows.

"There were," Corzon explained, "Many, many. Levail and Zawdirge and Valla and Deathblaze. But all left, yez. They gone now, never gonna come back, they zay. Me and Darkzcale, we ztay here, yez, ztay here with Mizter Ballantyne."

"Where izz Kalzmar?" Davian asked.

"Dead," Corzon replied, completely emotionless, "Killed by longearz, yez."

Davian shrugged and said nothing more on the subject. Wemys was a little unnerved by the lizard's lack of caring for the dead, but said nothing.

Corzon led them to what had once been a mess hall. Almost every table had been smashed up, no doubt in order for Battletide to create his strange wooden contraptions on the roof of the castle. There was a tapestry in the center of the room, completely untouched, depicting Regner. Apparently, the weasel had once been pretty amazing stuff. Now, however, he was only in charge of twenty or so released slaves.

The four of them sat down at one of the few remaining benches. "So… Who's this Deathblaze fellow?" Wemys asked. He was pretty sure he already knew, however. For Battletide to get the two confused like that, there was only one creature in the world who could possibly be Deathblaze.

"He izz crazy stoat thing, lookz like you," Corzon explained, "Very mean and very angry, yez. He left, though. Then Levail and the rezt left, too."

Yes, that was a perfect description of Percival. Very mean and very angry.

---

Skrobb, Roth, and Glasseye had been tracking Davian and Wemys for a few days. Skrobb had just about had it with Roth and Glasseye's unceasing chatter, where they conversed on all sorts of topics, from Regner to Reiss to Schaeper's exploding head to the Long Patrol to whatever they felt needed to be talked about for a few hours. Skrobb occasionally shot in an annoyed comment, and often told them to shut up. But, of course, it never worked. The pair of lackeys gossiped more than two old haremaids.

Right now they were on the topic of names. "So, Glasseye," Roth began, "wot was yer name afore ya had that glass eye o' yers? I mean, ya couldn't have been born wit' that name, right?"

"Nah, I actually was," Glasseye replied, "Parents named me Glasseye, then when I was born, they gouged me eye out and put in this thing so the name would fit." He gave a small wink with his good eye to Roth.

"Cripes!" Roth exclaimed, "Yer parents musta been evil! The worst my mum an' dad did was make me eat my veggietables!"

"Yew idiot," Skrobb snapped, "He's jokin'. That ain't really wot happened." The rat rolled his eyes and muttered some thing to himself angrily.

"Yeah, he's right," said Glasseye, "I was really named Finkle, but I lost my eye ta some angry crow. Pecked it right out, he did. I didn't really wanna eyepatch, so I got this fancy glass eye, an' the rest is history."

"So," Roth started, "If I were ta get, say, a bunch o' scars on my face, everybeast would start callin' me Scarface?"

"I guess, but I think somebeast already has that name, though," Glasseye responded, shrugging a bit, "It jus' sounds kinda familiar. Musta been one of those creatures Telson talks 'bout in his stories, the ones that git their heads bitten off by snakes an' cut in half by giant scissors."

"'Ey, speakin' o' Telson," Roth continued, "Wot kinda name is that? Wot, is he the son of somebeast named Tel? That makes no sense."

"Ya know wot name really don't make any sense?" Glasseye asked, "Skrobb! I mean, that's a worse name than Finkle, I tell ya! Skrobb, how'd ya git stuck with such a lousy name?"

"Shut up," Skrobb snapped, "If yer gonna talk so much, at least leave me out o' the discussion."

"Wotever, then," replied Roth, "Well, I'm jus' glad I gotta normal name, like Roth. I jus' like the sound of it: _Rooooooooooth_."

Skrobb covered his ears with his paws and walked ahead of the pair, growling angrily at them. He was amazed that they hadn't blown their heads up, talking as much as they did. It was just an endless torrent of speech. They talked in the morning eating breakfast, they talked in the evening during dinner, they talked all the time in between, and they even talked in their sleep sometimes! It was driving Skrobb insane. All he wanted to do was go back to his home, away from all the annoying creatures of the world, and live his life in peaceful tranquility.

Skrobb stepped out of the forest they had been traversing and into a large field. There was no mistaking Wemys and Davian's tracks; it was as if they hadn't even made an attempt to cover them up (which they hadn't, actually). Skrobb looked down the field, watching where the tracks led, and then froze.

"Cripes, look at that castle!" Roth shouted from behind him.

---

The four of them- Wemys, Davian, Corzon, and Darkscale- all sat at the bench for about an hour. The lizards didn't talk a whole lot, especially considering they had been separated for over a season. Wemys occasionally asked a question, and Corzon would answer it, often times hardly understandable. Apparently, they were all waiting for Mister Ballantyne to show up. Wemys found that the name sounded very familiar. He had heard it before, but where…?

The door to the mess hall swung open, and the cleanest ferret Wemys had ever seen strolled in. He was the polar opposite of Battletide. There wasn't a single speck of dirt on him, and the drunken gait that the mud-thing had walked with was completely absent. The ferret was dressed in a dark blue coat that looked like it was made out of a very fine material. He used a cane, but as an element of his style, not as something to support himself with. He also wore a shiny, polished monocle, but behind the glass were two yellow, blood-shot eyes, which ruined the ferret's image.

"Hello, weary travelers," spoke the ferret, with a voice very similar to Battletide's, "My name is Ballantyne, the former head tactician for Lord Regner the Magnificent and now the master of his empty castle. Could I pleasure you with a drink? We have a very fine winery located in the basement, with some of the greatest drinks you will ever taste. Believe me… I know." Ballantyne eyed a shattered bottle by his footpaws.

"Where izz Battletide?" Davian asked quickly.

"Battletide had some business to attend to," Ballantyne replied, "It is unfortunate, but he will not be returning. Now, since none of you seem interested in a drink, would you please confide in me Sir Deathblaze's location? I require his audience."

"Deathblaze, or, if you call him by his real name, Percival, isn't here," Wemys announced, "The creature you thought was him is actually me, his brother. The name's Wemys."

Ballantyne froze, processing the information that had just been imparted to him. After getting over the initial 'Deathblaze is really named Percival?!' that was experienced by Regner when he first heard the news from Jeld back on the ship about a week prior, the ferret became depressed again. After Deathblaze, whom Ballantyne had always thought of as his friend, had left without any warning, the ferret had become a wreck. Regner was dead, Deathblaze was gone, and there was nothing left for poor little Ballantyne. The effects of his depression could be seen all throughout the castle, be it in the form of his torn-up story, his dark drawings, or his utter trashing of the entire fortress.

The former tactician suddenly slammed his cane down on a half-broken bottle of wine, shattering it into pieces. "That's… quite… a… shame…" he muttered. The ferret knew he was about to cry, and turned to leave the room.

"Regner told me he was dead, y'know," Wemys added. Ballantyne stopped in mid-turn and swiveled back to face the stoat.

"Regner said that?" the ferret exclaimed in a hushed whisper, "Lord Regner the Magnificent? He said that? I'm sorry, but Lord Regner is deceased. I was there myself when it happened. He was crushed by a gargantuan badger."

"No," Davian jutted in, "He izz alive, fighting the longearz at mountain plaze."

The monocle dropped out of Ballantyne's eye. So not all of his friends were gone! He could go back to Regner, be his tactician again, raise up another horde, and everything could be back to normal! Back to the way Ballantyne wanted it to be! Deathblaze would return, he would have to, and there wouldn't even be Golding to mess everything up like before! But, of course, there was no way they could be telling the truth. Lord Regner was dead.

But hope welled up inside Ballantyne all the same. He hadn't checked Regner's body, had he? No, he hadn't even seen it! He was in such a hurry to alert Deathblaze that he had just left Regner there! Ballantyne knew now that that had been a horrible mistake, but it really hadn't done any harm… had it? But… They had to be lying. It was just too good to be true.

"Lookit that!" shouted Darkscale suddenly. All eyes turned to see where the lizard was pointing, which was out one of the bashed in windows. Skrobb, Roth, and Glasseye were all bumbling towards the castle like some sort of circus crowd.

"Those are creatures sent by Regner to capture us," Wemys explained. Ballantyne looked at him skeptically. Why would Regner send creatures to capture Deathblaze's brother? Maybe he didn't know Wemys' familial connections?

"Then I'll just have to have a talk with these creatures, if what you say is true," the ferret replied, "Corzon, Darkscale, come with me. You two… stay here, until further notice. I don't suggest wandering off; you'll likely get lost."

---

Ah, great. More creatures straight from the loony bin.

Those were Skrobb's thoughts as Ballantyne and his two bodyguards walked out through the main gate. The rat had seen the writing on the walls of the castle, but since he, as well as his two lackeys, was illiterate, they made nothing out of it. "Be on yer guards," Skrobb snapped at his two companions, "These fellers look dangerous."

Roth and Glasseye exchanged glances, but drew their weapons nonetheless as the ferret approached them. Ballantyne stopped a good distance away from the trio, and then began to speak.

"Hello, travelers," he announced, "My name is Ballantyne. I have been informed that you three are here on orders of Lord Regner the Magnificent to capture two creatures, a stoat and a lizard much like the two behind me."

"Uhh… Yeah," Skrobb replied, "Regner's gonna be really mad if we don't bring 'em back alive. Do ya know where they are?"

Ballantyne suddenly became overjoyed. It was true! Regner really wasn't dead! This was a great day! All he had to do to was turn in Deathblaze's brother and a random lizard! "Of course I know where they are," he responded jubilantly, "Wait just one second!" He nearly skipped back into the castle.

"Is he always that weird?" Skrobb asked the two lizards that had been left behind. Both of them nodded.

---

Davian and Wemys had been watching from the window, although they could hear exactly what had been said. That was unfortunate, as Ballantyne walked into the mess soon after, brandishing what looked like a rather large crossbow.

"Please, I implore you," the ferret said soothingly, causing the two of them to spin around, "Don't move, and do as I say. It appears you were not fibbing about Lord Regner the Magnificent, and thusly, I am forced to turn you in to him. I will always be loyal to Lord Regner, as will Corzon and Darkscale. Please, do not try anything. Lord Regner wants you two alive, and it would be a shame to shoot you."

"You're going to betray us?" Wemys asked.

Ballantyne scoffed. "Betray you? I hardly even met you! The only reason I let you in to begin with was because I thought you were somebeast you obviously weren't! Now, come forward, slowly!" He motioned with the crossbow.

Wemys remembered how horrible of a shot Ballantyne had been when operating the odd contraption on the roof and suddenly got an idea. Without warning, he bolted to the left, where the nearest door was situated. Ballantyne let the arrow in his crossbow fly; it hit absolutely nothing.

The stoat ran, with Davian behind him. He didn't know this castle like Ballantyne most likely did, but he would have to try to escape. If they were brought back to Regner, it would only be a matter of time before they were killed leading a charge against the Long Patrol.

Wemys opened the door. He didn't realize that Ballantyne was already laughing, and he wouldn't have thought to stop if he had. But, as soon as the door opened, a giant painting fell through the doorway, knocking both Wemys and Davian to the ground.

Ballantyne yelled for the others outside to get in, then slowly walked towards the trapped pair, laughing. "I guess all the junk I piled up everywhere really did come in handy in the end… You two just got defeated by a portrait of your brother!"

Wemys pushed the painting off. He would have ran, but Ballantyne was very close now, and he had already reloaded his crossbow. The stoat looked down at the picture. Percival was there, standing proudly, although there was a scared look in his eye, as if he knew there was something out there to get him. Wemys didn't know it, but the something Percival was afraid of was himself.

Skrobb, Corzon, and the others all ran in, with Skrobb even chuckling. They had captured both of them, and alive, to boot! He didn't particularly care that Regner wouldn't be completely mad at him, but he was happy to know that he wouldn't have to be grouped with Roth and Glasseye any longer.

Corzon and Darkscale reluctantly heaved the two up. Ballantyne was right; they too were more loyal to Regner than they were to Davian, although they had some qualms about what they were doing.

Wemys closed his eyes as Skrobb tied his paws together. This was the end now.

* * *

**Author's Note: As I said before, I love this chapter. It didn't have the dark, snide humor that "The Spy" did, but it does have probably the best instance of characterization in the entire fic and easily the most fitting allusion. If there's anybody out there, yes, Battletide and Ballantyne are the same character. Ballantyne just claimed the two were different because he didn't want Wemys and Davian (well, really just Wemys; it's quite obvious he doesn't care for the lizards) to have known that he had been so unkempt. One note you probably won't catch: Battletide is also the name of the ship Regner claimed he used to sail on when he infiltrated Conrad's squad posing as Abren. Coincidence:O**

**Now, the allusion. As I said before, Lord of the Flies is a parody of a story called Coral Island (the latter of which is written by a man named R.M. Ballantyne). One of the most common comparison scenes between the two is the scene with the boulders, one of which is in both stories. In Coral Island, the more civilized, optimistic story, the boulder becomes dislodged itself and falls towards the protagonists. In Lord of the Flies, a much darker, savage story, the boulders are being fired at the protagonists by a sadist named Roger, who uses a strange lever-contraption, much like "Battletide" did. Draw the conclusions yourself; I'm not going to go and reveal the significance of everything in my story.**

**There's only THREE more chapters after this. The next one is basically filler that sets everything up for the big climax, although there is nice characterization of Wemys (something you probably won't see a whole lot of earlier in the story). After that is the big climatic battle, and finally the Epilogue, which is short, sweet, and to the point.**


	38. The Return

**Author's Note: I remember this chapter being longer. Oh, and Awsomewriter, Ballantyne was able to escape the Long Patrol because they let him go.**

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* * *

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XXXVIII: The Return

As their six captors led Wemys and Davian back, completely abandoning Castle Regner (for seven of the eight creatures there, it would be the last time they ever saw the fortress), Wemys begun to cling to the hope that by the time they returned, Regner would have been wiped out by the Long Patrol. It was the only thing that could really save them, the stoat figured. And it wasn't too unlikely, either. They had been gone for almost a whole week; something had to have happened in that time. Regner couldn't just keep the hares at a stalemate forever.

Until they made it back to the beach, however, Wemys had to endure the casual, carefree chatter of Roth and Glasseye.

"Cripes!" exclaimed Roth as he accidentally stepped on a sharp rock. He began to hop around, holding his injured footpaw.

"Is that all ya ever say, 'cripes'?" asked Glasseye, "I'm tellin' ya, that's gonna be the last thing ya ever say! I can see it now: I once knew a ferret named Roth. Nice feller, too, until he said cripes one time too many an' Skrobb chopped him up inta itty bitty pieces!" Glasseye did a passable impression of Telson.

Skrobb, who was in slightly better humor after recapturing Davian and Wemys, said, "I like that one, actually!"

"Ah, I don't say cripes that much," Roth assured them, still hopping around, "My mate says I say it a lot, though."

"You have a mate?" Glasseye asked, looking a little skeptical.

"Yeah, back where we all came from," Roth replied, "A mate an' three younguns. I guess it was lucky that stupid fox didn't see 'em, or they'd be part o' this right now, too. Course, they're all prob'ly worried sick 'bout me, I know it. Prob'ly think I'm dead, also. Aye, it'll be a nice day when I can go home again."

Wemys attempted to block out what they were saying and looked over at Ballantyne, who had remained silent almost the whole trip, with a giddy expression frozen on his face as he walked along. It was as if he were lost in his own strange little world.

Davian had attempted to talk to Corzon and Darkscale, two old friends who had sold him out because they were more loyal to their new leader.

"Why izz you doing thiz?" Davian asked, "We muzt leave Regner, he izz bad, yez."

"It izz too late, Davian," Corzon replied, "Regner izz like King Kirrent. I muzt be in hiz favor!"

Wemys sighed, completely lost in the awkward logic of the lizards. Nothing any of them ever said made a single lick of sense, the stoat decided. They continued on, with Wemys trying to block out all of the noise surrounding him, because everything anybeast there said only seemed to depress him even more than he already was.

What a way to die, charging the Long Patrol. Wemys would never have expected his death to be like that. The members of his groups all seemed to by dying off in very lousy ways: burned to death in a flaming ship, randomly hit in the neck by an arrow, and now in a charge against the Long Patrol. How depressing. All of it was depressing. Why did Regner have to mess everything up? Why did all his friends have to be dead? Why had everything gone wrong? Why did it have to happen to him?

His whole life had been one lousy experience after another. His parents died, then his sister died, then his brother left, then all his friends died, and now here he was, with every step getting closer to his own pathetic death. Death, death, death, all of it. One death after another. How depressing.

And yet Roth and Glasseye kept up their humorous discussion, Davian and Corzon spoke of things that made absolutely no sense, and Ballantyne looked as if he were about ready to explode with utter joy. How could everything be so twisted? Why was everything so twisted?

Here he was, the angst-filled anti-hero, off to his depressing end. Curvetail had always liked to tell stories, but they always had depressing endings, with the main character getting killed and the villain winning. Wemys figured he had just stepped into one of those yarns. The stoat had nothing but self-pity for himself.

A few days of this passed by, with Wemys recycling the same angst over and over in his head all day long. Then, it ended, as the eight of them all stepped onto the beach, with Salamandastron snuggly in the distance. Wemys tossed around the thought that maybe Regner had gotten killed during the course of the week for a brief moment, then just threw it away. Wemys had never and would never be that lucky.

These thoughts were confirmed as the first creatures who greeted them, standing proudly at the top of a sand dune, were Lord Regner himself and his two captains.

---

In all actuality, absolutely nothing changed in the week while Wemys and Davian were gone. Not one thing. The hares hadn't even tried another attempt to rescue their colonel, and Regner hadn't tried anything until Skrobb returned, either empty-pawed or with Wemys. There were a few times where he thought that maybe the rat had been killed when hunting after his soon-to-be prisoners, and he almost initiated his plan to draw out the Long Patrol. Now, he was very, very glad he hadn't.

He had been sitting down, lazily looking over into space, pondering what he should do next. Caldwell, having been knocked senseless again after his latest torture session, lay unmoving beside him. A sudden thought popped into the weasel's head and he spat on the unconscious hare, just as Caldwell had done to him. He gave out a light chuckle, although there was no humor in it. Regner had found himself very humorless as of late. More and more he just wanted to slaughter his entire band for their inability to perform like his old horde had been able to.

He'd just have to kill them all after he captured Salamandastron. Maybe he'd keep a handful (maybe), like Telson and Reiss, but the rest he'd just drop in the sea or something. Then he'd spread the word: Lord Regner the Magnificent was back and better than ever! Join his horde!

"'Ey, Regner!" shouted Reiss from the top of a dune, "Skrobb an' the others are back, an' they caught those two that ran away! There's some others with 'em, too! Two more lizards an' some ferret dressed all fancily!"

Regner shot to his feet. Had he just heard Reiss correctly? A ferret dressed all fancily? That could only be… No, it had to be somebeast else…

"Y'know, I once knew a ferret who dressed all fancily," announced Telson, who had been standing nearby, "Nice feller, too. He had a fancy name, too. It was like Ballytoad or sumthin' like that… Can't quite remember it off the top o' my head… I saw him traveling around, couldn't be very old at all, but he was dressed in all these fancy clothes, an' I gave him a bit o' food…"

Regner didn't even bother to cut off Telson, as he didn't really hear a word the ferret said. He began slowly walking up the hill where Reiss was standing, completely unaware that Telson was following him every step of the way, relating (or trying to, at least) his tale that, for once, didn't end with a macabre decapitation or other kind of bizarre, unnatural death.

The weasel climbed to the top of the dune and looked to where Reiss was pointing. Sure enough, that was Ballantyne, right down to the polished monocle that gleamed in the sunlight. Of course, the tactician had a giddy grin on his face, which Regner found something not like Ballantyne at all, but there was no mistaking the fancy clothing and unnecessary cane.

The ferret began to briskly stroll towards them, breaking ahead of the rest of the group, the giddy smile still on his face. "Lord Regner!" he exclaimed as he got about halfway there, "I was certain that you had been killed by that brutish badger!"

Regner smiled. "I thought those hares executed you! Oh, and showing emotion doesn't really suit you, y'know! You were better off when you just had that stone cold expression on your face!"

Reiss and Telson exchanged glances. They had never seen Regner like _this_, either. It seemed that their leader had all sorts of surprises up his very large sleeves.

Ballantyne was at the base of the dune now, and slowly making his way up. "No, the hares let us all go, for some reason. I think it was because their leader was completely insane, the more that I think about it. Deathblaze survived as well, but he departed from Castle Regner a while ago, without any warning. I haven't seen him since."

"That's unfortunate," Regner replied, "But nothing too bad. When Deathblaze hears that I'm still alive, he'll be sure to return. Right now, though, I'm trying to finish off the Long Patrol once and for all. We're kind of at a standoff right now, but we captured their leader. Now that you're here, we're sure to be victorious."

"Uh, not ta interrupt or anythin'," interjected Reiss, "But could ya explain ta the rest of us who this feller is?"

"I am Ballantyne, Lord Regner's head tactician," the ferret explained, "I was the one who helped him rise to power in the first place."

"I know yew," Telson said, pointing, "I gave ya food once, remember?"

"I do, in fact, Sir Telson," Ballantyne replied, still smiling, "It's nice to know that you have joined up with Lord Regner. He is a very successful warlord, destined to go down in history and be remembered by all."

---

"No blinking way," muttered Lieutenant Tabbins. That couldn't be… shouldn't be… But no, it most definitely was. Regner's little tactician had returned.

They had spent the entire week trying to figure out a plan to rescue Colonel Caldwell that would actually work. None of them had been able to think up anything other than charge the enemy head-on. Tabbins had been reluctant, thinking that Regner might perhaps be able to overpower them. They had equal numbers, and many of Regner's crew looked battle-ready. All he had with him were a few eager recruits. If Caldwell was there, he'd have no trouble charging; Caldwell was a very good leader on the battlefield, and he could get even the most clueless soldiers into the right positions and formations. Tabbins was only good at leading off the battlefield. He could spend hours and hours trying to drill a battle plan into his soldier's heads, only to have them completely muck it up at the first chance they had.

And now, Tabbins thought, they were doomed. Completely doomed. The only reason Regner hadn't attacked them was because he hadn't been able to come up with a good enough plan, just like them. But now that his genius tactician (the same tactician who had managed to get Lord Oxpaw and roughly a hundred or so Long Patrol hares killed and got closer to completely and ultimately conquering Salamandastron than any other warlord had done in the past, Tabbins reminded himself) was back, they had no hope. Tabbins was already beginning to get paranoid. What if they were already falling into his trap? What if, no matter what they did now, Regner would still win? What if the water they were drinking was poisoned?

Then Tabbins, as well as all the other hares in Salamandastron, got the luckiest break they ever would.

---

It had been Lersot's turn to spy on Regner's horde. He had kept to a distance, but he had still seen the eight newcomers as soon as they got onto the beach. Hastily, he ran back down the dune to where the other eight members of Conrad's crew were lounging about, ready to deliver what he thought was very good news.

"They're back!" the rat exclaimed eagerly, "Davian an' Wemys are back, alive too! An' that's not all! There are two other lizards, look jus' like Davian, with 'em!"

"Wot's so great 'bout that?" asked Garland, kicking some sand lazily, "They've all been captured, won't do us no good in the end. Unless we were ta break 'em all out or sumthin'…"

"They aren't tied up, though!" Lersot exclaimed, "Ya know wot that means?"

"Wot's it mean?" Rebule asked, waving around the hook Jeld had given him as a weapon, "Does it mean that Regner's givin' 'em a second chance?"

"No, ya idiot!" Curvetail shouted, jumping to his feet, "I see wot Lersot's talkin' 'bout. There are three lizards, right? An' since Davian's on our side, an' those lizards are with Davian, they're on our side too, right?"

"Uhh… Right?" replied Rebule.

"Of course it's right!" Curvetail snapped, "Now, don'tcha know anythin'? Those lizards don't need a weapon ta attack! Since they aren't tied up, if we were ta attack right now, they'd all be able ta fight too! Wemys wouldn't, but that's okay, since he's a lousy fighter anyways."

"Hey, he's right!" exclaimed Jeld, the coin still in his mouth, "This is great! We have two more tough, battle-hardened lizards that can fight with us!"

"Yeah, until Regner decides ta tie 'em up," Crowley added.

Everybeast looked at the magician silently for a few seconds. Then, Curvetail yelled, "We're jus' gonna hafta attack now, afore he does that! Everybeast, git yer weapons!! An' hurry up!!"

* * *

**Second Note: Re-reading this chapter, I actually really like the characterization I put in here. Of course, the irony is that probably my best chapter of characterization comes right before the climax... And most of the characters I characterize die anyways. Yes, I promise you, Chapter 39 will NOT have a pacifist ending like Chapter 26. Most of the characters die, minor or otherwise. In fact... Of every single vermin character in the story right now (still including really minor ones), only six survive, with two having an ambiguous fate and one said to be dying. Considering that, by my memory, there are about twenty-five characters right now, that's a pretty high death toll.**


	39. The Magnificent

**Author's Note: Here it is, the climax! Aren't you excited? It seems like it was a very long time ago when I started this... And now it's almost over. I'm not like sad or anything though. Stories need to end sometime. Now I can go on and write new, different things.**

**Well, anyways, here it is. I hope you enjoy it; I sure did.**

* * *

XXXIX: The Magnificent

Not even Yugu and Kleid realized that Curvetail and his squad were attacking until the daggers started raining down on them. The two female weasels had given up hope that they would be rescued by their remains of their old group halfway through the week. They hadn't even bothered to tell Murkeye, who seemed to have blended right in with Regner's crowd.

Everybeast was lounging about, with only a few standing guard, watching Salamandastron. They didn't know that they were watching the wrong way, however. Some creatures were trying to figure out what Regner was doing and who the weird ferret that had just shown up was, but most of them were just minding their own business, not doing much of anything.

Then, a stoat suddenly hit the ground, dead. A few of the group gathered around their fallen comrade, trying to figure out what just happened. Then, another one dropped dead. The group all seemed to realize that they were under attack at exactly the same time, and began to mobilize into action.

"Regner, we're under attack!!" squealed Reyla as she and her mate ducked down, hoping to avoid whatever it was that was killing everybeast.

Regner smiled, drawing his saber. "Excellent! Those stupid hares finally decided to show their faces! Ballantyne, wait here and watch as I squash the Long Patrol once and for all! Telson, Reiss, get the troops into formation, and hurry up!"

Regner's two captains began to run down the dune. The got halfway to the bottom when a knife fell from the sky, landing right in between them. They both looked at the dagger for a minute, with quizzical expressions on their faces. Reiss turned back to Regner and said, "Sire, this knife came from the opposite direction of Salamandastron."

"What?!" exclaimed Regner, "If that's true, then who's attacking us?!" Another knife fell from the sky, striking a rat directly on the top of the skull, killing him instantly.

Ballantyne looked in the direction the knives were falling from. "It appears you're being attacked by eight- no, nine- assorted characters, none of whom I've seen before."

Regner saw what Ballantyne was talking about almost immediately and was mortified. It was Conrad's crew! So they hadn't died in the fire! The warlord suddenly found himself in a very difficult position. Even if he did defeat these nine, he'd find himself outnumbered by the Long Patrol. It was like being in between a rock and a hard spot.

Weltsnout was leading the charge, reaching into Jeld's big bag and pulling out a throwing knife, then heaving it into the sky. Jeld hadn't been exaggerating; there really were about fifty of them in there. However, since he was just randomly throwing them, he hadn't managed to strike any more than three creatures.

The rat never really got a chance to show just how good a fighter he was to Curvetail and Jeld and the rest, as his head suddenly imploded when a pair of bolas wrapped around his neck. The bag of throwing knives went flying, smacking the sand with a plop and depositing the weapons everywhere.

As Buvul slowly snuck around a dune to retrieve his bolas, the other eight members of Conrad's crew continued their charge, some a little unnerved by how quickly Weltsnout had been killed. It seemed like they would never know if he really was a miniature version of Percival or not.

Telson and Reiss had grouped together the small horde, which had been a fairly easy feat once everybeast found out there were only eight attackers. "When they come o'er that dune," Telson shouted, "Give 'em all ya got!"

The eight ran over the dune in question after a few seconds, but instead of giving them all they got, the horde suddenly found themselves also being attacked from behind. Kleid and Yugu began to wreak havoc on the horde's turned backs. Kleid felled two with arrows and Yugu stabbed one in the back with her short sword.

Reyla and her mate went for the two weasels while Telson attempted to regroup the horde again before Curvetail and the rest got to them. His efforts were in vain, however.

Regner watched in absolute horror as his horde began losing numbers very quickly. He turned to the seven creatures that had just showed up with Ballantyne and shouted, "Get over here and help, you lazy idiots!"

However, this shred of hope was suddenly ruined as well. Davian swung his claw straight into Corzon's face, blinding his old friend. Darkscale jumped back, narrowly avoiding another of Davian's claws. The lizard then turned and went for Skrobb the rat. Skrobb, however, had no intention of being mauled to death by a crazy reptile. He grabbed the closest thing to him, the unfortunate Roth, and shoved the ferret in front of him like a shield.

"CRIPES!!!" Roth screamed as Davian bit into his neck, ripping off a huge chunk of flesh and spraying blood everywhere. The ferret tumbled to the ground, writhing in his death throes.

Glasseye and Skrobb exchanged an uneasy glance for a split second. Roth's last word actually _had _been 'cripes'. Then Skrobb ran. Glasseye chased after him, his sword drawn.

Davian was going to pursue when the blinded Corzon latched onto his back and tackled him to the ground. Corzon began to pummel Davian, hissing and screaming. Wemys reacted fast, however. He grabbed a sword that Darkscale had sheathed and went at the lizard.

Wemys never understood Corzon's motives, and he never would. The stoat hacked and slashed at the lizard's back, many times hitting only armor but actually striking the lizard just as much. He struck down about twenty times, his anger rising with every slash. That stupid lizard, who had betrayed his friends for no feasible reason! How could he have done that?

Davian pushed Corzon's blind carcass off of him. Still encased in golden armor, King Kirrent's strongest yet stupidest general rolled up, facing the sky, his mouth hung open dumbly.

Wemys turned the sword to Darkscale. The lizard didn't even attempt a fight. Darkscale sprinted away, never seen again by any of them.

"Why… How… could he… betray you…?" Wemys asked Davian.

Davian knew the answer. It was because the lizards didn't really have friends. They just had acquaintances. To them, if there was a leader who would lead them to victory (or even defeat), they must serve them. That was how they had served King Kirrent, and that was how Corzon had served Lord Regner. The only two lizards who had ever gone against this had been Kalzmar and Marclaw, and both of them had paid a price. Davian didn't know if it was the right price, but it was a price. Instead of saying these things, however, he merely shrugged.

"Let's… kill… Regner…!" Wemys shouted. He felt his anger increasing, his thoughts racing, and all reason leaving him. Then he charged at the weasel, holding his sword high. Davian followed right behind him.

Back at the battle, things had gone in the favor of Curvetail's group. They hadn't been outnumbered by a whole lot after factoring in the creatures Weltsnout, Yugu, and Kleid killed, and the rest were all a disorganized mess. However, Reyla and her mate had been giving Kleid and Yugu bounds of trouble.

Karder had hit Kleid early on in the fight, cutting her deeply with his sword. The archer fell to the ground, and Karder didn't give her a second glance, even though she wasn't dead yet. He then turned his attention towards Yugu, whom his mate Reyla was fighting… and losing. However, Karder didn't get a chance to help her, as Garland jumped out of nowhere and began to attack him.

Reiss ran around, easily ducking under most blows due to his height deficiency. He dived around the swinging chain of Tadds, crouched beneath simultaneous attacks by Lersot and Rebule, and was about to break away from the fighting when Swiss suddenly leapt in front of him and plunged his dagger into the short weasel's stomach. Reiss looked horrified. Swiss pulled the dagger back and continued fighting, leaving Reiss alone.

The short weasel immediately began to scream in agony. "He got me! He got me, I tell ya! I'm dyin', I'm dyin'!!" Reiss seemed completely unaware that he had just been stabbed by a trick dagger, and that he was completely unharmed.

Telson, however, was giving them a lot more trouble. The experienced veteran kept them at bay with his hatchet, swinging it around wildly yet skillfully. Curvetail leapt at him, only to swiftly leap back as the hatchet almost cleaved off his head. Tadds swung his chain forward, but Telson actually caught it in midair. With a strong tug, he dragged the screaming rat forward, where the hatchet smashed through his skull, killing him almost instantly.

"Tadds!!" shouted Jeld as his assistant's head split in two. He drew his deck with the unnaturally pointy edges and threw several cards right at Telson. The all bounced off the ferret as if it were nothing.

"Is that all ya can do?" Telson mocked, "I once knew a fox named—"

But the ferret never got to tell that particular story. Sensing a weak point, Curvetail swung his ball and chain savagely, smashing Telson's ribcage. The ferret crumpled in a bloody heap.

There were only a handful of Regner's horde left, and they were being quickly dispatched by the remaining seven members of Conrad's crew. Regner wasn't watching, however. Wemys and Davian were charging straight at him.

He dispatched Wemys easily enough; as soon as the stoat got close to him, the warlord swung his saber, leaving a bloody gash down Wemys' chest. He fell back and rolled down the hill again. But as soon as Regner had done that, Davian was at him with fangs and claws bared. Ballantyne seemed to have vanished, which was for the better anyways; the ferret was useless in combat situations.

Conrad's crew now began running up the dune, also to exact revenge on Regner. The weasel didn't panic in the slightest, however. He knew full well he could kill them all.

Back down below, Reyla suddenly found herself in a very bad position. Yugu was attacking relentlessly. With her mate unable to give assistance, Reyla knew that she would have no chance at beating Yugu.

Instead, she threw down her weapon. "I surrender!" she exclaimed. Seconds later, her head was lopped off by one of Yugu's swipes.

Karder saw this. Completely ignoring the fact that Garland was attacking him, he launched himself at Yugu. Her back turned, the weasel had no chance. Karder's sword went into her back, severing her spinal cord.

"You killed her, you stupid—!"

Karder had begun to kick Yugu's lifeless body, but he didn't even get one in before Garland slew him with one slash of his sword. Then he continued to stab the dead body several times, similar to what Karder had planned to do to Yugu's slain carcass.

However, Garland also didn't have a long time to do this before a bloody pair of bolas wrapped around his chest, smashing the center of his body. He collapsed to the ground, adding to the pile that consisted of Reyla, Yugu, Karder, and Kleid.

"Bolas?" Kleid suddenly said, spitting out blood, "I oughtta shoot that coward Buvul… Where's my bow?" The weasel rolled over in search of her weapon, revealing a large, fatal-looking gash.

With all of Regner's horde dead, the battle was now everybeast versus the Magnificent himself. Regner kicked Davian, tipping him off-balance and sending him falling back down the dune. The weasel began to make very good use of his advantage with the higher ground.

Lersot, who had been leading the charge-within-a-charge at Regner, was slain almost instantly as he reached the top of the dune, with Regner slashing him viciously in the neck. This caused the normally cowardly Rebule to leap at the warlord in anger, but Regner made short work of him, too.

Kicking Rebule's carcass back down the hill at his approaching foes, Regner assessed the situation. He wasn't as good a fighter as Deathblaze, and he wasn't as smart as Ballantyne, but he was balanced, and Regner had every intention of using both his brains and his brawn to the fullest. He did not let anger consume him one bit, even though his entire horde had been, once again, completely demolished. Ballantyne was still alive, and so was Deathblaze, and he could easily gather up another, larger horde in an even shorter period of time. All he needed to do was survive this final bout with the vengeful members of Conrad's crew.

There were only a few of them: Davian and Wemys, both of whom were making their way back up the dune behind him; Crowley and Swiss, both of whom were charging straight up the middle, but shouldn't be much of a problem (Regner knew how stupid Swiss was, and Crowley was covered in injuries); Murkeye, who was lagging in the back and looking a bit reluctant to fight; and Curvetail and Jeld, the real threat, both of whom were trying to hit him from the sides (Jeld had also picked up a regular sword from a fallen soldier).

Seven vengeful fighters, all against him. He could handle that.

Regner suddenly charged forward at Swiss and Crowley. Crowley kicked up a cloud of sand in an attempt to slow the warlord down. It didn't work. Crowley found himself on the end of Regner's saber, his last magic trick a dud. Swiss dived forward and stabbed Regner, but for some dumb reason, the dagger point retracted into the hilt, not even scratching the warlord. Regner knocked Swiss down as he pulled his saber out of Crowley.

Crowley wasn't dead yet, though. He swung his spear like a club, tripping Regner and sending the warlord flying down the dune, right into Murkeye. Regner stabbed the cook in the heart, slaying her instantly, then turned around to finish off Swiss and Crowley.

However, the other four attackers were already upon him. Curvetail was in the lead, and hit Regner head-on. The weasel nimbly ducked under the swinging ball and chain. Curvetail swung his weapon back, about to crush Regner's head, when an all-too-familiar pair of bolas hit him in the chest, bringing him down in a bloody heap.

"You're kidding me!!!" Curvetail roared as he fell into the sand, dying. From fairly far away, Buvul smiled triumphantly. That put his kill count to four, it seemed, even though Garland hadn't been dead when he pulled the bolas off of him.

Buvul suddenly toppled over dead, with the last arrow Kleid ever shot embedded in the back of his skull.

Regner jumped back, completely off of the dune now. Jeld, Davian, Wemys, and Swiss all ran down after him.

"Only four of you left, see!" Regner shouted, "And one of you doesn't even have a working weapon! Ha!"

Wemys charged forward, tackling Regner to the ground. The weasel kicked him off, sending the stoat flying through the air. He swung his saber just in time to deflect an attack from Jeld. Swiss jumped down and stabbed him yet again with his trick dagger, but all he was met with was the click of the blade retracting into the hilt. Jeld suddenly regretted very much his decision to give Swiss that.

Regner pushed Jeld back into Davian, and the two fell in a heap. Swiss charged him another time. Regner attempted to stab the fool, but Swiss got to him quicker. Regner, thoroughly annoyed, smashed him over the head with the hilt of his saber. Swiss crumpled in a heap, blood spurting out of his skull.

Wemys tried to hit him from behind again, but Regner dodged out of the way and tripped the stoat. Crowley, dying on the dune, hurtled his spear at the warlord, but it didn't even come close.

"Stupid old spear, I wanted a better weapon, but no, stupid Jeld had to stick me with the stupid weapons," he mumbled, just before he rested his head back and died.

Regner backed up some more. Only three left. He could do this. The warlord spotted Ballantyne, up on top of a dune, watching intently. All he needed to do was kill three vengeful fighters and then he could reform his horde and come back better than ever. It would be like eating cake. Although Regner didn't really have a taste for cake.

"Things are falling apart, aren't they?" came a voice. Regner looked back to see that it was Caldwell, still tied up. Regner decided that after he killed these three, he'd deal with that one once and for all.

Wemys charged him yet again. Regner blocked his sword and kicked him back. Jeld went for him, and Regner swung his sword to the side, slicing halfway through the gambling stoat's arm. Jeld fell to the ground, screaming and writhing in pain, the golden coin dropping out of his mouth.

"Only two left," Regner muttered to himself. Wemys and Davian encircled him, neither attempting to get too close at the moment. Regner waved his saber at them menacingly.

"Ya killed them all!" Wemys shrieked, "An' I'll get ya fer it!"

"You're a horrible fighter," Regner replied, "There's no way you could beat me. Not even Jeld or Curvetail could beat me!" He raised his saber, ready to finish off the injured Jeld.

Davian leapt forward. Regner had been anticipating this. He slashed at Davian, creating a diagonal red line all the way down the front of the lizard, tearing the already tattered white cloak that Davian had been awarded for being one of the three generals of King Kirrent, a title which was completely meaningless now.

This didn't matter to Davian, however. The lizard continued his charge, grabbing Regner by the neck. The weasel warlord stabbed forward with his saber several times, impaling Davian in numerous places. The lizard began to throttle Regner, showing the same inability to die that Lord Oxpaw had, so long ago in that dark hallway of Salamandastron. Well, Regner had survived Oxpaw and he'd survive this stupid lizard.

A million thoughts flashed through Davian's head at once. There was Corzon, betraying him for his new master, and Kalzmar, betraying the old master, and Marclaw, claiming that he was the master, and King Kirrent, who wished he was the master. All of them were dead now. And Davian finally realized that he was going to join them. But not before he took Regner with him!

The lizard, unable to dig his claws into Regner's neck, kicked the weasel squarely in the chest, and then released him. Davian slowly fell backwards, bleeding from a million spots. Regner flew backwards as well. Straight into the waiting claws of Wemys.

---

The beach was silent, other than the quiet lapping of the waves against the sand and the occasional caw of a gull. Only a few creatures were still standing; the rest were dead, piled in heaps upon each other.

Jeld slowly walked amongst the dead, his arm bandaged but still crying out in agony. He held one of his bags, and as he passed by a creature he had known, he pulled out everything he had won from them in all his seasons of gambling and gave it back to their rightful owner. The stoat figured it was the least he could do.

As he gave Murkeye her medal back, another creature walked by. This was Reiss, who had suddenly realized that he hadn't been stabbed and that he wasn't going to die. The vertically challenged weasel didn't even give a second look to Jeld as he walked past, off into the forest, with a destination unknown to all but himself.

Jeld paid the departing weasel no heed as he moved onto Curvetail, who had so unfortunately been killed by Buvul. Carefully, Jeld removed the bolas wrapped around Curvetail's chest and cast them aside, before he gave Curvetail back a pair of very sturdy boots.

Jeld continued, sorting through his large bag as he passed each one of his fallen comrades. After he gave Lersot and Rebule their things back, he began to walk back down the dune, over to where Tadds lay, his head split open.

As he approached the rat, another creature began to speak. It was Telson, who had been struck by Curvetail's ball and chain. "Y'know…" Telson began, "I once knew a ferret named Telson. Nice feller, too, until he got hit by a giant iron ball and his chest caved in. Heh… Pretty good story, don'tcha agree?"

Jeld ignored the ferret. Normally, he would have finished him off for what he did to Tadds, but this wasn't the time. The Long Patrol would deal with him later. Jeld walked by Wemys, who was sitting down on the ground, cradling his head. Jeld had something to give him, too, but he guessed that it could wait until the stoat was feeling better. Next to him lay Regner, who had been beaten, bitten, and almost torn to pieces.

As Jeld continued with his duties, an oddly-dressed ferret climbed over a dune and walked down to where Regner lay, stopping just in front of the body.

"Ballantyne…" Regner whispered, "I can't move. Help me… Please…"

Ballantyne stared down at his leader solemnly. He had thought that he had been moving towards a new beginning, that he and Regner would rebuild what they had lost trying to conquer Salamandastron. But Ballantyne had enough medical expertise to know that Regner was dying. And it wasn't a ruse this time.

Jeld gave Kleid her necklace back and turned to Garland, who lay nearby. Garland was not dead, though, although Jeld could tell that he, like Regner, would be dead very soon.

"They killed Yugu…" Garland said, "Killed her…"

"I know, Garland," Jeld replied sadly, "They killed Curvetail an' Crowley an' the rest, too. I'm sorry."

"I jus' wanna go to sleep, now…" Garland murmured, "I'm tired…"

Jeld said nothing. He watched as Garland slowly closed his eyes, never to open them again.

Ballantyne had begun to drag Regner back. Jeld ignored them, placing a small statuette by Garland, something Jeld had no idea why Garland had in the first place, but not daring to even question it in his mind.

"It's going to be all right, sire," Ballantyne told Regner soothingly, "I'm taking you back to Castle Regner, where everything will be all right."

"Did you see me, Ballantyne?" Regner babbled absent-mindedly, "I killed almost all of them. My worthless horde couldn't take them out, so I had to! Ain't that amazing?"

"Don't say 'ain't', it isn't proper grammar."

"Oh, well." Regner's eyes clouded over, and his head slumped over. Ballantyne closed his eyes. Regner was dead for real, this time. Ballantyne hadn't shed a tear when he had thought Regner had been crushed by the giant badger, but he knew he was going to this time. Why was this time different? Ballantyne decided not to waste his time trying to figure out as he dragged Regner the Magnificent's body back in the direction of Castle Regner, watery tears running down his face.

---

Wemys woke up. He hadn't even realized he had fallen asleep, as he had a dream that seemed so completely real, where all of them- Conrad, Limptail, even Davian- were all sitting around the campfire back in Mossflower Woods, just like it had been before Regner got involved. Then he woke up to the depressing reality around him.

His mind once again compared his predicament to the stories Curvetail used to tell eons ago, the depressing ones where all the protagonists died and all the antagonists lived. He was surrounded by death, and he quickly picked out all his slain comrades. Curvetail, Crowley, Murkeye, Kleid and Garland and Yugu and all of them all lay, strewn about haphazardly, many with injuries that looked like they might have been home in a story told by Telson.

He felt a piece of parchment slipped into his pocket. He pulled it out and unfolded it, and instantly knew what it was and who had given it to him.

It was a picture of him. The artist had been his sister, Madison. It was a very good sketch, and Wemys had always regretted losing it in a bet with Jeld. There was a second picture Madison had drawn, that one with Percival in it, but Wemys didn't see it anywhere. It seemed that Jeld had kept that picture.

Wemys folded the picture back up and put it in his pocket. Jeld was gone now; Wemys couldn't see him anywhere. The stoat looked around to see if anybeast was stirring. There was Telson, who seemed to be mumbling something, but Wemys ignored him. He looked over all of the bodies of his fallen comrades, trying to see if one was missing. As expected, Jeld wasn't among them, but there was also one other: Swiss.

"Swiss?" Wemys asked, hoping that the dopey fellow hadn't left. There had been a time that Wemys had groaned every time Swiss showed up, but now he wouldn't be happier if he could see the creature that sort of looked like a pine marten, but not quite.

"Oh, wot?" came a reply. Wemys ran in the direction of the voice, a bit unsteadily. He climbed over a sand dune and looked, hoping to see Swiss standing there.

Swiss was there, along with about twenty hares.

"Who's that?" asked Lieutenant Tabbins, pointing at Wemys, "Can we trust him?"

"That's jus' Wemys," Swiss replied, "He's my friend."

Wemys slowly walked down the dune, until he was standing right next to Swiss. The sight of the hares unnerved him. Conrad had always been afraid of the Long Patrol, and Curvetail had told him that it was for a good reason.

"This fellow Swiss here was just telling us wot happened," Tabbins explained, "We found him holding a trick dagger as if it were a weapon. Pretty funny stuff, wot wot?"

There was a round of laughter from the other hares. Wemys watched them nervously, although Swiss seemed perfectly calm.

"Yeah, I get why you're nervous," Tabbins continued, "I'd be nervous too, if I were you. I know our reputation is that we're big and bad and we kill any vermin that crosses our path, and normally that pretty much true, but we made an exception for you two, considering you helped us out big-time by getting rid of Regner and his horde before he killed our colonel."

Wemys looked around at the mention of Colonel Caldwell, but the hare in question wasn't there. He had been taken back to Salamandastron so that the numerous injuries Regner had dealt him during his tortures could be healed.

"We're gonna let you bury your dead, if you want," Tabbins announced, "Then we'll let you be on your way. Just don't terrorize us peaceful folk like I know you vermin like to do. Or wotever."

Swiss and Wemys exchanged glances.

"Yeah," Tabbins sighed, "Whenever we wipe out a group of vermin or wotever, there's always just a small amount that get away, and somebeast always says that we've seen the last of them. Well, we never did see the last of them. Those lizards came back and that stupid ferret came back."

"Well, we've seen the last of 'em now, sah," Clements said, "Regner's dead for sure now, and only about two got away."

"Oh, be quiet and eat your victory cake," Tabbins scoffed, "We've never seen the last of them. They always come back. Always!"

Clements shrugged. As long as he got his victory cake (he just hoped that the cake wasn't a lie), everything was good enough for him. Again, Wemys and Swiss exchanged glances.

"Now, the only thing we can really say is that we hope we've seen the last of them, because that's the truth. If you don't hope you've seen the last of them, then you're out of your bally mind. Now, you two," he pointed at Swiss and Wemys, "go and do wotever, and get out of here. Because, even though you helped us out, I know you aren't just happy, good little vermin, and I really do hope I've seen the last of you."

END PART III

* * *

**Second Note: So, there you have it. The six that lived were Wemys, Swiss, Jeld, Ballantyne, Darkscale, and Reiss. The two with unknown fates were Skrobb and Glasseye. And the dying one was Telson.**

**It's funny; I always read a story, and when an awesome minor character gets killed off, I'm always like "If I wrote this story, I wouldn't have killed off any of the characters I like". The irony about it is that in this story, I actually DID kill off most of the characters I liked. The only characters I didn't kill for the sole reason that I liked them were Swiss and Reiss, and neither of those were even my favorites among the minor characters. Oh, well. I guess it just works like that.**

**The Epilogue is short and sweet. It's divided into four parts, each part focusing on a different character. You'll see what happened to a couple of characters you haven't seen since Part II...**


	40. The Epilogue

**Author's Note: Awsomewriter: Perhaps Ballantyne should have died, but I'm not the one to go and kill off a character just because they're a bad guy. If you'd look, you'd notice that there isn't much rhyme or reason at all regarding who lived and who died. I find that makes my story less predictable.**

**And now, the aptly titled Chapter 40.**

* * *

XL: The Epilogue

Summer changed to autumn slowly but surely, with the leaves of the trees turning all sorts of vibrant colors before floating to the earth daintily. Many peaceful woodlanders accepted the changing of seasons with glee.

In a small, circular clearing deep in Mossflower woods, a solitary old cart lay unmoving, the leaves fluttering around it. The cart was covered, with a small, rusty door on the back and one open window on the side. The window was covered by a new red curtain, which seemed to blend in amongst the leaves.

The cart was old and decaying, but there was a fresh coat of paint on it. On the side the window was not on, in very fancy, flowery writing, were the words "Jeld's Magical Emporium of Fun".

Nobeast knew what Jeld was, for all they saw of him were his paws when he dealt cards or rolled dice. Most creatures also didn't know what an emporium was, either, which was why they had gone to check out the cart in the first place. It really wouldn't have mattered if they had known what an emporium was anyways, because the cart wasn't really an emporium at all.

Creatures of all shapes, sizes, and species had gone to see what made Jeld's cart so magical and fun, vermin and woodlander alike. Business had been very good for Jeld, although he was certain he may have to close for the winter. Goodbeasts probably wouldn't enjoy it if they found they were gambling with an ermine, and they were half his customers.

Jeld didn't have the same customer twice, though. He wisely had picked a spot where nobeast really lived, although many traveled by it. Thus, unlike in Conrad's group, he wouldn't receive any complaints that he had swindled a customer out of their items.

It was a normal day for the Magical Emporium of Fun. A couple of shrews had showed up earlier that morning and Jeld had won a nice bottle of damson wine, which he stored away in one of the many cabinets and drawers in the interior to the cart, which nobeast but Jeld ever saw.

The stoat was surprised when a group of about twenty assorted vermin bumbled out of the woods. Jeld rarely saw vermin groups anymore; they mostly seemed to come alone, and when they did come in groups, they were usually less than ten.

"A magical emporium of fun?" exclaimed what looked like the leader, a tall stoat, "Wot do ya think that is, Sawdirge?"

"I dunno, Levail," replied Sawdirge, another stoat who couldn't be more than twenty seasons old, "Let's go check it out."

"Okay, then," Levail said, shrugging, "Valla, make sure nobeast wanders off, this should jus' take a few minutes."

Levail and Sawdirge separated from the rest of the group and made their way over to the cart, their curiosity ignited. Jeld prepared his deck of cards and a pair of dice as the two stoats walked up to the window.

"So, wot is this place?" Levail asked.

"This is my magical emporium of fun, o' course," Jeld replied, "Where ya play me a card or dice game. We make wagers, o' course. Wanna try yer luck?"

"Heh, card games!" Sawdirge exclaimed, "Card games are always fun! Com'n, Levail, go an' play him! They don't call ya Levail the Lucky fer nuttin', y'know!"

Levail shrugged. "Sure, then."

Behind his curtain, Jeld smiled. "Okay, we'll play some cards. I don't suggest ya look at the Ublaz Mad Eyes card fer too long, though. Now, yer gonna hafta make a wager…"

---

Ballantyne made one last trip to Castle Regner, taking Regner's dead body along with him. There, he buried his fallen leader, one of the three friends Ballantyne had ever had in his whole life, and the second one to die. Now, only Deathblaze was left.

He buried Regner to the side of the castle, on the top of a grassy hill. Ballantyne had not cut any corners with the grave, making it perfectly rectangular. Carefully, he lowered Regner into it, dressed in the best remaining set of armor and holding the best sword Ballantyne could find in the armory.

Ballantyne filled the grave in, and then placed on it an ornate headstone, with an elaborate design of thorny vines on it. It read:

Here lies Lord Regner the Magnificent

The greatest warlord of all time

It was a simple message, but Ballantyne felt that was all that was needed to convey Regner's importance and impact on Mossflower. The ferret then gave Regner a eulogy; a real one, this time, unlike the fake one he had made when he poisoned Regner so long ago.

"Lord Regner was a very great weasel," Ballantyne announced to the empty field, "He started from scratch, building up both a horde and a castle with only the aid of his loyal tactician, Ballantyne. Regner enjoyed many great victories, most notably his victory over Salamandastron. There were a few problems along the way, such as a traitorous uprising and his near-death at the paws of the badger Oxpaw, but he overcame these issues with amazing determination. He died in battle, after a triumphant fight against amazing odds, slaying seven of the nine creatures trying to kill him and injuring an eighth. It was… very unfortunate… that he had to… sniff… die…. Oh, what am I doing?!"

Ballantyne turned and walked away from the grave, back towards Castle Regner. There he would see what was left in the winery and drink himself silly.

The ferret got to the main gate and stopped. He had a sudden change of heart. He didn't want to drink himself silly, living alone in the trashed castle Regner. Not when Deathblaze was still out there. He didn't want to have to look at the glorious paintings of Regner and his horde, reminding himself of how he had been so close to renewing everything he had lost, not when he could try to repair it still.

Ballantyne turned and walked into the forest, wielding no weapon but his unnecessary cane, and looking for a stoat named Deathblaze.

---

Deathblaze, however, had already been found, by an old friend that he had known even before Ballantyne.

"Percival Deathblaze, as you say your name is now! It is of great jubilation that we meet again!" exclaimed the vixen, wrapped in all sorts of vibrant, colorful cloth, "You seem very sad, why is this?"

Deathblaze hadn't actually been looking for Connerie, Conrad's cheat of a sister, like he had when he had initially left Conrad's crew and stumbled into Regner's horde, but he had found her all the same. Or she had found him. That was the more likely explanation. It wasn't as if Deathblaze had made himself very difficult to find. In fact, he was, at that very moment, sitting in the center of a burning village, where he had slain every single creature before throwing their bodies into a giant heap and setting them on fire.

It was very likely that Connerie had seen the fire and come to investigate, but she had to keep her image as a seer up, and she had told Deathblaze she had known to come here because the omens had said so. Deathblaze didn't believe one way or another.

"I killed them all," he muttered, "My head hurts…. Can't think straight…"

"Of course, Percival Deathblaze!" Connerie announced cheerfully, "You are afflicted with a disease of mind! Here, drink this potion of amazing remedy, and you will feel better, I guarantee it!"

A small vial or red liquid seemed to materialize in her paw. Deathblaze seized it, uncorked it, and swallowed the contents with one gulp.

Almost instantly, his thoughts seemed to clear up, his sadness seemed to vanish completely, and the anger began to flood back in. He felt like killing something very, very much.

Connerie smiled gently. "Yes, feeling much better. I hear that there is another village much like this north from here… Perhaps we should pay them a visit!"

Deathblaze looked at her, his eyes growing red. Yes… He must visit the village. He must burn them, like he did to the fools here. It all seemed to make sense now. Those villagers had made him angry, of course! Everything was their fault!

Connerie winked gingerly at Deathblaze. The killing machine began to march north, in the direction of the village the vixen had mentioned. When Deathblaze had turned his back, Connerie stashed a bag filled with the slain villager's valuables into her cloak. As she followed Deathblaze to the next village, which she hoped had even more things of value, she began to sing.

---

The mousemaid Marettia, Mary for short, skipped along through the field in front of Redwall, picking flowers as she crossed them and gathering nuts and fruits for a feast that they would be having soon. She had never again touched the sword of Martin the Warrior after saving Salamandastron, and it hung in its rightful spot next to the tapestry of Martin in the Great Hall.

Carefree and inattentive, she almost didn't notice an injured creature lying under a bush as she passed by it. But a glint of gold caught her eye and she stopped to investigate.

Then she screamed.

Scout Commander Golding didn't mind the scream; at least somebeast had finally found him. Somebeast that would probably help him, at least. He had been dragging himself forward for months now, living off of nuts and fruits that had fallen to the ground, and the only creatures he had seen had been the one cruel stoat that forced him to play cards before stealing the saber that had belonged to Golding's father.

Mary ran back to the abbey, screaming all the way. A whole slew of abbeybeasts ran out, wondering what was amiss. All Mary could do was point in the direction where Golding was.

Golding suddenly found himself being picked up by a group of woodlanders, many of which were recoiling in disgust after looking at his mangled legs. Golding didn't care. Finally, he had been saved.

The woodlanders carried Golding into their abbey, with the weasel smiling the widest smile imaginable. Then he lost consciousness.

* * *

**Final Note: Boy, I sure set that up for a sequel. Will there be one? Maybe, maybe not. If there is, it won't be my next fic; I've already written 125 pages of that, and I plan to start posting it sometime in the near future. It's very ambitious as a story. It's actually got conventional protagonists and antagonists, though, so some of you may find that nice. As of now, I've got it labeled as a "Tragedy/Parody", in the sense that it's a parody of classical tragedy.**

**And with that...**

**Fin**

**(Always wanted to do that)**


End file.
